


Exiled

by thekingslover



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bottom!Cas, DCBB, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2014, M/M, Past Dean/Other, Soul Mates AU, Werewolf AU, arson cw, blood cw, violence cw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 21:48:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2522939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekingslover/pseuds/thekingslover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lone werewolf Dean, recently exiled from his pack, collapses half-dead at the door of Castiel, a kind but awkward recluse who never really belonged anywhere.</p><p>Cas has no idea what being a werewolf’s mate means – he's only just learned werewolves are real! – but he will do anything to protect Dean from the dangers chasing him, even if it means leaving behind the only world he knows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my wonderful artist, [possibly-an-obsession](http://possibly-an-obsession.tumblr.com/). View the art master-post [here](http://possibly-an-obsession.tumblr.com/post/101104568552/my-art-for-the-2014-dcbb-with-thekingslover-who).
> 
> Also thanks to Onja, Laana, and Mag for emotional support. And [Onja](http://appleblossomdean.tumblr.com/) again for being a fantastic and supportive beta! :)

 

Maybe if Castiel had been raised like most everyone else, in a town with neighbors instead of in an isolated cabin in the woods, he would know what to do when a man in need crumpled on his doorstep. As it was, Castiel could only kneel in the doorway and give the stranger a gentle shove on his leather jacket covered shoulder. The stranger lolled with Castiel’s push, limp. He wasn’t dead; his chest rose and fell in a steady, shallow rhythm. But his leather jacket, gray t-shirt, and blue jeans were soaked from the rain. His whole body shivered once, and then again. Castiel didn’t have to grow up in the city to know that if he didn’t bring this man in from the autumn chill, he’d probably die right here.

Castiel gripped at the stranger’s leather jacket and rolled him onto his back. Then he started pulling. He stopped to catch his breath only after the guy’s torso was through the doorframe. The stranger’s head rested on the fuzzy brown rug of Castiel’s living room. Castiel placed his hands on the rug at either side of the stranger’s head and peered down at his face.

The lamp light touched the left half of the stranger’s features, illuminating the gradual curve of a high cheekbone dusted with freckles. Full pink lips parted slightly, showing a hint of white teeth underneath. His brown hair was cropped short and clung wet to his forehead. A few days’ worth of stubble darkened a prominent jawline, and Castiel couldn’t help but wonder what he’d look like clean-shaven.

He didn’t really understand the way his heart sped up when the stranger began to stir, or the way his breath caught when those eyes opened, unfocused, and Castiel could see their unusual hazel hue. He didn’t even know eyes could hold such vivid color, emerald green on the outside and a warm honey brown by the pupil. As Castiel watched, the colors began to mix and swirl. The stranger blinked once, twice, and Castiel gasped when those otherworldly eyes focused on him.

“Am I dead?”

Castiel saw no reason to lie. “Not yet.”

“Dying?”

“Likely.”

The man swallowed. “Are you…” he started but stopped.

Castiel had no idea what the man wanted to say, so he took a chance. “My name is Castiel.”

The man blinked faster, three times in quick succession. “Heck of a name.” He started to smile, one corner of his mouth lifting higher than the other, but then winced, and the smile was gone.

“Is it uncommon?” Castiel genuinely did not know the answer.

“I never heard it before.” The stranger lifted one shoulder and pulled at his jacket, which had bunched beneath him. He collapsed after a moment, huffing. He rested for a breath or two and then tried again.

“Let me help you,” Castiel said and grabbed the edge of the stranger’s jacket. He pried it out from under the man’s back so he could finally rest comfortably.

“Thanks.”

“Of course.”

“Dean.”

“Hm?”

“My name. Dean.” The stranger scrunched his eyes closed and his body shivered. Castiel, unsure what to do, touched his shoulder in concern. When Dean’s body stopped shaking, he looked up at Castiel again. “Now you’ll know what to carve onto the headstone.” His half-smile returned but it seemed different this time – hollow. “If I even get one.”

Castiel tilted his head. “Why wouldn’t you get one?”

“Just don’t throw me into the river, okay? That’s how my dad went, and I can’t…” Dean’s voice broke. “I want to be in the ground.”

“There’s some room out back,” Castiel said. “Beside my grandfather.”

Dean nodded, and though he gave a quick word of thanks, Castiel could see the fear in those strange eyes beneath the unshed tears that made them glisten.

“You don’t want to die.” Castiel’s gut twisted, just as it had when his dying grandfather was about to leave him all alone.

“Does anyone?”

“I’m not a doctor,” Castiel said.

“Just bury me.”

Castiel moved his hand from Dean’s shoulder to his face, cupping his stubble-covered cheek. Dean leaned into Castiel’s palm. “I can’t promise to save you. But I will try.”

“You don’t owe me a damned thing.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Just bury me.” Dean’s breathing evened out. A moment later, he fell asleep.

Castiel traced Dean’s stubble from his cheek to his chin. As he began to pull away, Dean turned his face, following Castiel’s hand, and groaned when he could not find it. When Castiel, unwilling to cause Dean more pain, returned his palm to Dean’s cheek, Dean’s grumbling softened into a hum.

His features eased. He looked peaceful, calm. Almost dead.

Castiel’s stomach twisted. No, not dead. Not _yet_.

He leaned closer and whispered into Dean’s ear, “I’m going to save you.”

Because Castiel’s cabin was so small, the bedroom was only a couple of yards away, but with the heavy weight of Dean’s wet clothes, Castiel struggled to carry Dean further into the house than the living room couch. He paused there, deciding to take Dean the rest of the way to the bedroom after he removed Dean’s wet, cold clothes.

He peeled away Dean’s leather jacket first, but when he uncovered Dean’s bare arms, he paused. Muscle bulged under tan skin. Dean’s gray t-shirt stretched across an equally muscled torso. Castiel had to take a moment to swallow down a tightness that had risen in his throat.

He had never seen anyone as beautiful as Dean.

High cheekbones. Full pink lips. Long dark eyelashes. Hair, spikey wet, and dripping on the floor.

“Towels.” Castiel ran to the bathroom. He stopped at the sink and splashed some cold water on his face. Dean needed him. He had to focus. Once Dean was warm and dry and safe, Castiel could give thought to the way his body seemed to react to Dean – in a way it had never reacted to anyone before. But not here. Not now. Not when Dean was out there _dying_.

With the pool of desire deep in his stomach turned to fear, Castiel gathered every towel under the sink and returned to Dean’s side. With steely determination, he removed Dean’s t-shirt and unbuckled his jeans. Dean’s brown boots were double knotted, but Castiel’s deft fingers untied them without much trouble. He placed them beside the growing pile of clothes and added Dean’s socks a moment later.

Castiel hesitated at Dean’s pants. He didn’t want to take advantage of Dean but the man needed warmth. He took a breath, held it, and then pulled down the zipper of Dean’s jeans. After adverting his gaze out of respect, he began peeling away the fabric from Dean’s body.

He didn’t notice that Dean’s boxers had stuck to the denim until the jeans were at Dean’s thighs and Dean’s dick hung out in the open.

The blood rushed to Castiel’s head so fast, he grabbed the back of the couch to keep from falling over. His gaze darted in every other direction. He hadn’t meant to look. He’d meant to leave Dean’s underwear _on_.

Gaze planted firmly on the ceiling, he tried to pry the boxers from the inside of the jeans but all of the wet fabric stuck together and to Dean’s thighs. Castiel found himself accidentally grabbing more skin than cloth and eventually gave up altogether. He grabbed a towel and with only a quick glance to judge the where of it, draped the towel over Dean’s crotch. Castiel looked again when Dean was covered and exhaled deeply in relief. With that complication handled, he removed Dean’s pants and boxers without further issue and added them to the pile. Then he dried Dean’s arms, chest, legs, and feet.

He didn’t want to drag Dean on the floor any further, especially not with him naked, so Castiel grabbed Dean with one arm around his back and the other under his knees and lifted him bridal style. Knowing he couldn’t hold the taller and weightier man for long, he quickly hobbled to the bedroom.

Along the way, the towel covering Dean’s hips scrunched up in the area between them. Castiel counted his blessings that it continued to cover allow Dean at least the barest hint of privacy. However, it did pull away from one side, revealing the meaty curve of Dean’s hip and upper thigh, and the dip between his pelvic bone and stomach.

In his sleep, Dean curled closer to Castiel. His hands clutched at Castiel’s t-shirt. He lifted his face, and his cheek rubbed against the bare skin of Castiel’s neck. Then he moaned.

Castiel’s face burned and he walked faster. At the side of the bed, he all but dropped Dean onto it, only remembering at the last minute to kick back the covers with his knee. With Dean secure atop the bed, Castiel moved to pull away – until two strong arms gripped him by the shoulders and pulled him back onto the bed.

“So warm,” Dean breathed against Castiel’s ear.

Castiel tried to pull away but Dean whimpered and held tighter.

“Stay. Please stay.”

Castiel knew all the reasons he shouldn’t, most of which involved the uncontrollable swelling in his pants, but found he could not refuse Dean this. The man needed warmth and sharing body heat was the best way to procure it. “Alright.”

Castiel kicked down the sheet and blankets further until Dean’s bare feet were safely under them and then shimmied the covers upward. When he could reach them with his hand, he grabbed them and pulled them up over his shoulders so that all of Dean was covered except for his head.

Dean pressed his nose into Castiel’s hair and breathed deeply. “You smell good.”

Castiel was unsure how to reply to such a compliment. “Um, thank you.”

Dean hummed, followed quickly by a soft snore.

Castiel had hardly ever slept at night. Instead, he’d pick up a book and read. If he stopped for even a moment to let his mind wander, he would remember that he was alone and had been alone for a long time. And some days he felt like he deserved it.

But here, Dean, wrapped all around him, snoring gently in his ear, chased away all the nightmarish thoughts.

Dean smelled like pine needles and rain. Castiel pressed his nose close to Dean’s neck and breathed deeply. Worn leather. A hint of flowery shampoo.

_Safe_.

Castiel felt safe. There was no reason for it. He knew next to nothing about Dean, aside from his name and what he looked like naked. Still, his strength and his smell calmed Castiel’s anxiety, and after a few moments of closeness and warmth, Castiel, lulled by the gentle rise and fall of Dean’s chest under his cheek, fell into a deep and comfortable sleep.

 

* * *

 

A loud crash woke Castiel early the next morning. He kept still for a moment, thinking it only a clap of thunder. The rain continued pounding against the tin roof. Through the window, the world was lighter than night but still gray and drab.

Another sound – more of a heavy shuffle this time – echoed from the living room. Slowly, the previous night’s events returned to Castiel’s sleep-fogged mind and he remembered Dean.

Castiel’s face stuck to his pillowcase as he moved to sit up. He wiped away the drool from his lip. The bedspread was missing from the bed – as was Dean – but the remaining sheet and blanket were tucked snugly around Castiel’s legs and stomach.

“Dean?” Castiel rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Then he unraveled the sheets from his legs and stepped off the side of the bed. His legs were sore from sleeping in his jeans but he found some minor relief in smoothing out the wrinkles that had pressed into his skin.

He walked to the door that connected his bedroom to the living room and pushed it open. He didn’t remember closing it last night.

Wrapped in the bedspread like a toga, Dean stood beside the couch and his pile of clothes. He had worked one bare leg into his jeans, but the material was bunched around his calf and fought against his white-knuckled tugs.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel told him.

Dean jumped. His gaze snapped to Castiel.

Castiel pointed to Dean’s wet clothes on the floor. “I meant to hang them up last night after I put you to bed but…” A deep blush rushed across Dean’s cheekbones and down his neck. Castiel swallowed. “I can hang them up now if you’d like.”

“No, man. I need to get lost.” Dean wobbled on his feet as he struggled with the pant leg and then stumbled back into the couch. Castiel took a step forward to help him but Dean held his hand up, stopping him. “Give me space, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said again, more on reflex than actual apology. Dean was still sick. He needed help whether he wanted it or not. But Castiel wouldn’t force it. Dean was free to do whatever he wanted, even if what he wanted was to walk out into the rain and die. “But it would be wise for you to return to bed.”

Dean glanced up again, scowling this time. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

Castiel frowned. “You are still unwell.”

“Oh.” Some tension eased from Dean’s shoulders. “I thought you meant…” He coughed. “Forget it. I’ll get out of your hair and everything will be good.”

“What did you think I meant?” Castiel held his bottom lip with his teeth. Dean stared at Castiel’s mouth for a brief moment before dropping his gaze and blushing harder.

“It’s just kind of weird for a guy to take in a total stranger without wanting something in return.”

“I just want you well.”

“Why?”

Did he need a reason? “I don’t know.”

“Well, if you were going to kill me, I guess you would have done it last night.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “I was pretty out of it.”

“I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“Yeah?” Dean’s gaze swooped over the length of Castiel’s body before he shook his head. He rubbed the back of his neck and pulled again on his pants. His tugs weren’t as hard as before. He leaned more fully on the couch. “I need to make tracks.”

“You can stay.” Perhaps Dean’s biggest hang-up was permission.

Dean laughed, but it was too much, too loud. It sounded bitter, false. “You’re just _that_ good of a Samaritan, right?”

Castiel took a step forward from the doorway. Dean hopped a step back to the side of the couch.

_Like dealing with a spooked animal_. Castiel held up his hands. “Dean, I don’t understand this sudden hostility.”

“What do you want, Cas? Sex?”

Castiel blinked in surprise at both the nickname and the accusation. “What?”

“I woke up and there you were, right on top of me. Don’t play dumb.”

“Dean.” Castiel’s frown deepened. “You pulled me into the bed with you. You begged me to stay.”

Dean’s brow lowered. His upper lip curled. “I _don’t_ beg.”

Frustration spiked in Castiel’s chest. On top of the terrible things Dean was accusing him of, now he was adding liar to the list. “Fine.” Castiel stomped toward the front door. He unlatched the lock and threw open the treated oak. “If you think I am capable of so many great atrocities, then you can leave.”

Outside, beyond the covered porch, the rain beat down hard on the grass and dirt. Dean wouldn’t make it far in this, and the thought of Dean rushing out to die knocked the fight right out of Castiel. With a defeated huff, he walked toward the kitchen, leaving the door open behind him.

“I’m going to make some tea,” Castiel said. “You can stay.” Softer, he added, “Or you can go. It’s up to you.” He stopped at the kitchen door and looked back. Dean hadn’t moved from the corner beside the couch. “I won’t hurt you, Dean. And I don’t want anything from you.”

Dean said nothing, just stared. Not knowing what else to do or say, Castiel nodded and walked into the kitchen.

He hadn’t gone to town in months so the packet of tea he grabbed was the last in the box. He tossed the empty cardboard into the trashcan and wondered if he should offer the last tea to Dean – if Dean even planned to stay.

The front door closed with a thud and Castiel sighed. He hoped Dean would find someone else to take care of him, maybe someone with a car who could take him into town. Castiel only had a bicycle with a basket and an attachable cart.

At the very least, Castiel hoped Dean would _survive_.

“It’s his choice,” Castiel told the sink as he filled the tea kettle with water. Then he placed the kettle on the stove and turned up the burner. He struggled to keep the sinking feeling in his stomach at bay.

He could follow Dean just to make sure he was okay, but Dean would probably find fault with that action. He had expected Castiel to want something in return. Following him would only reinforce that misconception.

Soft footsteps sounded by the kitchen door. Castiel spun around.

Dean stood there, leaning against the doorframe. He motioned over his shoulder with his thumb. “Didn’t want the heat getting out.”

Relief washed over Castiel, though he didn’t want to show it. Instead, he nodded once and said, “Thank you.”

Dean nodded and walked further into the kitchen. He leaned against the counter of the sink and peered at the kettle. “Don’t suppose you have any coffee?”

“Coffee?” Castiel pressed his lips together. He never liked the stuff, but he remembered that his grandfather did. “There may be some in the cupboard there.” He pointed to a door near the refrigerator just as the kettle started to whistle.

As Dean dug through the cupboard, Castiel poured the hot water into a cup. Then he dropped the tea packet into the water.

“Dude.” Dean held up his arms. Both were covered in spider webs and dust. “When was the last time you went through this stuff.”

Castiel’s hand slipped and some of the hot water spilled out onto the counter.

“Careful!” Dean said but the warning came too late – some of the hot water had splashed up onto Castiel’s hand, burning it. He lowered the kettle onto the counter as carefully as he could before cradling his hand against his chest. He couldn’t stop shuddering; his skin burned like fire.

Dean flipped on the cold water, grabbed Castiel’s arm at the wrist, and dunked the burn under the running water. Castiel whimpered at the instantaneous relief.

Dean smirked. “Thought _you_ were supposed to be taking care of _me_?”

Castiel managed a small smile. “Seems we both need some keeping after.”

“Guess so,” Dean said, softer. When he released Castiel’s wrist, his fingers lingered for a moment before pulling away.

Castiel looked at the mess he had made on the counter. Water dripped down the front of the cabinets. “I spilled your tea.”

“Dude, I don’t drink that stuff.”

“Oh.”

“And I couldn’t get far in that spider pit back there. Where do you keep your food? You do eat, right?”

“Of course.” Castiel looked at the corner of the counter where the groceries from his last trip to town were stacked. The pile looked rather pitiful now, with only a half-finished carton of oatmeal, a few packets of noodles, and three granola bars. “I… There’s more in the fridge,” Castiel said in his defense, omitting that what was in the fridge wasn’t more than a jar of jelly, an opened can of tuna that he had meant to throw out, and three hard-boiled eggs.

Of course Dean checked. “ _Dude_.”

Castiel turned off the facet. “I meant to go into town soon.”

“Don’t tell me this is what you live on.”

“There’s a garden out back.” A little embarrassed, Castiel hunched in on himself. The garden was barren now, too late in the year to grow anything fresh.

“What, are you into drugs or something?” Dean scratched at the stubble on his chin. Castiel cast him a curious look. “Guy out in the middle of nowhere with no food?” He shrugged. “I’m just trying to figure you out.”

“I wish you’d stop.” _First a man of ill repute and now a drug dealer?_ Castiel had no idea where Dean kept pulling these delusions from. “I don’t go to town because I…” He swallowed and looked down at the counter. “I don’t like people.”

“You seem to be doing okay with me.”

“You haven’t hurt me.”

Dean took a step closer. “Cas –”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Castiel didn’t know why he had revealed even that much to a man mostly a stranger. “I’m not into drugs and I don’t expect anything from you. I live a quiet life here. That’s all. Please…” He took a breath. “Please stop trying to analyze me.”

Expression soft with pity, Dean held his gaze for a moment. Then he shook his head and the pity faded. “Okay, Cas. Okay.” He moved to the counter and lifted the half-filled container of oatmeal. He shook it. “You need to eat though.”

“And you need to rest,” Castiel told him, half because it was true and half because he didn’t want to talk about himself anymore. “You’re too pale.”

“Analyzing _me_ now?”

“No. Just observing.”

Dean refused to return to bed but agreed to take a warm, relaxing shower with only minor persistence from Castiel and a promise to track down some edible coffee. “ _Without_ spider-eggs,” Dean had insisted.

Ignoring the spider webs, Castiel searched through his grandfather’s cupboard for only the second time in the seven years since he had died. The first had been years ago when a pungent odor encouraged Castiel to clean out all the spoiled foods – snack cakes and cheese, mostly – all the things his grandfather wasn’t supposed to eat at the end but snuck in anyway. Now, the cupboard was barren except for a few old cookie containers that held spices, not cookies, and a dented old coffee tin with scorch marks on the lid. His grandfather had used the same coffee tin for as long as Castiel remembered, refilling it from other lesser coffee tins when it emptied. He had scolded Castiel once for trying to throw it out.

“It’s garbage,” Castiel had argued.

“It was your mother’s,” his grandfather had said.

Castiel traced the dents in the old tin can with his fingertips. What hadn’t been burnt by the fire all those years ago had rusted during its confinement to the closet, but some of the original blue shone through in places.

“Reminds me of your mother’s eyes,” his grandfather had told him. Castiel wished he could remember his mother. Looking at the splotches of blue on the can, he almost could.

Castiel sighed and shook the can to see if there was any coffee left inside. A loud clank pinged from inside. Curious, Castiel peeled back the plastic lid and gasped.

An envelope sat inside the tin can and under it, a locket on a long gold chain – his mother’s, the one his grandfather had worn every day for as long as Castiel remembered – well, except for at the very end. Castiel had thought it lost when his grandfather died, because he couldn’t find it on the body.

The envelope had yellowed with age and the corners had curled. It smelled faintly of coffee though there were no coffee beans left in the can. A single word marked the face of the envelope: Castiel, written in beautiful cursive – a handwriting he had never seen before, certainly not the shaky scribbles of his grandfather. The edge tucked into the fold, unsealed, and Castiel dipped his thumb into the envelope to open it.

A knock sounded loud from the front door. Startled, Castiel dropped the envelope back into the tin can. He quickly reaffixed the lid and returned the tin can to its spot in the cabinet, still marked by a ring in the dust.

He moved toward the living room but stopped in the doorway between it and the kitchen. Castiel wasn’t expecting visitors. He could hear the shower running in the bathroom beyond his bedroom and disliked the thought of opening the door to a stranger when Dean was so vulnerable.

Castiel quickly gathered Dean’s clothes. If someone was looking for Dean, Castiel would hide him. No questions asked.

Someone knocked again, harder this time. Startled, Castiel dropped the clothes back onto the floor.

“I know you are in there!” a male voice yelled from outside. “Open the door!”

Something dark flared deep within Castiel’s chest, twisting at his heart. A growl erupted from his throat and though he covered his mouth to contain the sound, it continued, rumbling deep in his chest.

The knocking persisted and Castiel hurried into the bedroom. He threw open the door of the closet and felt blindly through his hanging clothes. When his fingers touched metal, he gripped and pulled, bringing out a half dozen sweatshirts along with the gun. Castiel fell back onto the bed with an oomph. He pushed himself to his feet and all the shirts fell to the floor. Then he hurried to his nightstand and retrieved the ammo from the bottom drawer.

As he began loading the cartridges, Dean stuck his head out from the bathroom. Hair soaking wet with water drops falling down his face, he looked much as he had the night before – though conscious this time, and with a towel wrapped around his waist instead of just thrown on top. He was smiling at first but took one look at the gun in Castiel’s hands and his whole face fell. His eyes widened.

Seeing the fear swim across Dean’s features sent a fresh spike of anger into Castiel’s gut.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked.

“There’s someone at the door.”

“And you’re, what? Going to shoot him?”

“Yes.” Castiel loaded two rounds into the shotgun.

“Cas. Cas, listen to me.” Dean grabbed Castiel’s forearm and held tight, though he paled as the loud knocks on the door persisted. “Just don’t answer the door, okay? Wait for them to go.”

“They’re threatening us,” Castiel said, but the words didn’t feel quite right. He wasn’t sure where they came from. He had people come around before who’d wanted something – sometimes pranks, sometimes salesmen hoping to swindle him out of his sizeable inheritance. Yet never before had he taken to threatening the trespassers with a gun. Usually he’d do as Dean asked – keep the doors and windows locked and wait for them to leave.

“Cas –”

“They’re threatening _you_ ,” Castiel amended, feeling satisfied this time. These words felt honest.

“What?” Dean’s grip loosened enough for Castiel to break free.

“Stay here.” Castiel left the room, closing the bedroom door behind him. It stayed shut for all of two seconds. “Dean –”

“Hell, no, Cas. You don’t know the kind of people that are after me. _I do_.” He strutted into the room, hand clasped at the edge of the towel around his waist, holding it closed. “I’m not going to sit back in that room while they hurt you.”

“Dean, _please_.”

“They are threatening you,” Dean said, throwing back Castiel’s words.

Castiel huffed. “It’s _my_ house.”

“And you’re _my_ ma-” Dean choked on a word. His brows drew together in confusion. “Friend,” he amended, though without the earlier passion. “You’re my friend.”

“Dean,” Castiel said, drawing Dean’s gaze. A tightness in Castiel’s chest eased as he lost himself in those green eyes. He didn’t really understand how or why, but everything between he and Dean just felt _right_. The gun in his hands and the man at the front door were only memories in a dream, distant and unclear. There was only Dean – only _those eyes_.

“Cas,” Dean breathed, then swallowed. When he started again, his voice was stronger, resolved, “You have to let me protect you.”

Castiel tilted his head ever so slightly. “Why?”

The front door burst open.

Dean’s attention snapped to the door, and before Castiel could even register what was happening, Dean pushed him behind the large, muscled shield of his mostly naked body.

“Get out,” Dean growled, voice deep and dangerous.

“I’ve been looking for you, wolf,” a gruff voice said from the doorway.

“You and everyone else,” Dean replied.

Castiel peered over Dean’s shoulder. The man at the door had a full brown beard and a bandana wrapped around his head. He wore a black t-shirt over a gray sweatshirt, with a sleeve rolled up over a pack of cigarettes. One, lit, hung half-finished from his mouth. When he spoke, ash fell from the end.

“The rest are idiots,” he said. He held a handgun in one hand and an axe in the other, both raised threateningly toward Dean.

Castiel pumped his shotgun.

“What makes you think you’re smarter than them, hunter?” Dean’s grip tightened on Castiel’s arm, bruising.

“They don’t know what I know. They don’t _see_ what I see.”

“I’ll kill you.” With a thickening baritone, Dean sounded like a different person now, barely human.

“Maybe. But the others will come. They’ll see.” The hunter aimed his gun for the top of Castiel’s head but Dean quickly stepped into the shot, blocking Castiel’s view again. “They will take him from you.”

Castiel frowned. Were they talking about him? “No one’s taking me anywhere.” Castiel took a large step to Dean’s right, exposing himself and his shotgun. “Get the hell out of my house.”

The hunter smirked and more ash fell onto Castiel’s living room floor. “My little pup has some bark.”

“I am _not_ a pup,” Castiel said just as Dean growled, “He’s not _yours_.”

The hunter’s smirk only widened. To Dean, he said, “Come along peacefully, wolf, and I won’t hurt _your_ pup. Put up a fight?” He laughed. “We’ll see if his insides are as pretty as his face.”

Dean shoulders tensed. His hands clenched into fists.

The hunter cocked his head. “Go on. Change. Die like the dog you are.”

“This is your last warning!” Castiel shouted. He shoved at Dean, who stumbled to the side just a little like he had forgotten Castiel was there. “Get out of my house!”

“No,” the hunter said, never taking his eyes off of Dean. “What are you going to do about it, pup?”

“This.” Castiel leveled his shotgun and fired. He purposefully aimed wide, so the buckshot tore through more of his oak door and painted walls than it did human flesh. Still, the shrapnel ripped the hunter’s shoulder. He dropped his axe.

“You bastard!” The hunter swiveled his gun toward Castiel, but before he could fire, something was on him – an animal. A dog. No, a _wolf_ with a gray fur coat. It tore at the hunter’s neck with sharp teeth. Blood splattered across the cabin’s floorboards and the wolf’s white muzzle.

Beside Castiel, Dean had gone, only a towel left in his place.

“No.” It wasn’t possible. Werewolves weren’t real. The hunter hadn’t meant wolf _literally_ – had he?

The hunter gurgled but then stopped moving, and the wolf backed away from the corpse. As it turned, Castiel lifted his shotgun again. He had let Dean into his home, given him shelter without question.

He should have questioned.

He should have known better than to trust.

With Dean’s inhuman hazel eyes, the wolf stared at the gun and up at Castiel. Then it lowered its head and whined. Its tail curled between its legs and it dropped low to the ground, white underside dipping into the hunter’s spilled blood.

“Don’t,” Castiel said, because now Dean was going to need another shower. Castiel’s brow pulled together.

That shouldn’t have been his first thought.

He coughed, collecting himself, remembering that there was now a dead man in his living room and that a beautiful werewolf – that is, a _dangerous_ werewolf – had killed him. Of course the hunter had been trespassing and threatening him.

This was so confusing.

“Just – change back.” Castiel needed some explanations, and as expressive as Dean appeared to be in wolf form, he couldn’t speak. Castiel needed _words_.

Before Castiel’s gaze, the wolf’s gray fur retracted into human skin. Bones stretched and legs straightened. In the blink of an eye, the wolf was gone and Dean, naked, stood in its place. Blood dripped down his chin from his mouth and smeared across his chest from where he had lowered himself into a pool of it. He held his arms up, palms out, and his head stayed low, bowed toward the ground mirroring his wolf form.

“I’d never hurt you.” Dean’s gaze flicked to Castiel’s gun. “Please believe that.”

“You killed that man.” Castiel kept his gun aimed just as it was – at Dean.

“He threatened y—us.”

A warm shimmer rippled across Castiel’s skin. He liked the thought of being protected. But he also _hated it_ , on principle. He could take care of himself, just as he had for the past seven years.

“He was hunting you,” Castiel said, in question.

“Yes.”

“Because you’re a…” Castiel frowned. He’d just seen Dean change from human to wolf and back again but he could barely believe it, especially enough to give it a name. “Because of what you are?”

Dean looked away, toward the blood splattered floorboards. “Yes, but… not just that.” He took a shaky breath. “Please don’t ask me why. Not yet. I… it’s too much. Too soon.”

“Dean.”

“Please, Cas. Just not that. Anything else, I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

“You won’t lie?” Castiel asked.

Dean shook his head. “I couldn’t lie even if I wanted to.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re…” He looked to the ceiling this time. “Because.”

Castiel huffed, “You just said you wouldn’t lie to me!”

“I’m not lying!” Dean’s eyes glowed green as they focused again on Castiel. But then he closed them, took a long breath, and when he opened them again, they returned to a duller hazel. “Alright. _Fine_. I think you might be mine.”

“What?”

“I don’t know yet,” Dean said, talking quickly. “Most wolves know right away but I can’t tell yet. I don’t know why. But you smell so _good_. And you look good. And when that _hunter_ –” He spat out the word. “— came in here and said those things to you… I lost it.”

Castiel ignored the fluttering in his stomach. “What does that even mean, to be yours?”

“Us, wolves – we have mates.”

Castiel blinked. “Mates.”

“Yeah.”

“And you think I’m yours… your mate?”

Dean’s head dipped again after a quick nod, and Castiel had no idea how a naked Adonis of a man, golden skin smeared with blood, could look so small and vulnerable.

“But I’m not a wolf,” Castiel said, feeling a little sad though he didn’t think too hard about why.

“It happens. It hurts… sometimes. We live twice as long as humans and you’ll never feel the pull like I do – _will_ , if you’re mine. And human-werewolf pairs can’t have children, unless the human is turned. It’s a difficult process but many human mates go through it so they can have families, or if they want to live longer.” Dean frowned. “Sometimes, though, humans don’t want to be mated. I… I would understand if – I mean, if you _are_ mine, if you don’t…” He frowned deeper, but then shook his head and his consternation changed to one of fierce determination. “You’ll always have a choice with me.”

Castiel stared. And stared. And stared. Instinctively, he wanted to say something to quash Dean’s obvious fears. _I’d never do that to you_ , or _If I’m yours, you’d be mine too_. Either would suffice, but Castiel couldn’t say that yet. He couldn’t make a promise like that to a naked werewolf dripping blood in his living room. And after only knowing him a day.

“I think you’d better get cleaned up and dressed,” he said instead. His unspoken commitment to at least _think_ about it would have to be enough for now. For the first time since Dean’s change back into human form, Castiel pulled his gaze away from his face to look down at the corpse, half hanging out of his front doorway. “Then you can help me deal with him.”

“We can’t stay.”

Castiel’s gaze snapped back to Dean. “What? Why?”

“There’ll be others. They’re tracking me, Cas. And even if I leave, they’ll come here and they’ll find you, and I can’t –”

“I can protect myself.”

Dean shook his head. “I get that, I do. But these guys are dangerous. If they come here and they get you, they won’t kill you. They’ll do worse.” He swallowed hard. “And if they have you, they’ll have me.”

“ _If_ we’re mates?”

Dean looked down. “Yeah.”

Castiel looked around the living room of his small house, taking in the worn leather of the couch and the small, black and white television in the corner. A picture of his grandparents hung on the wall. He’d lived in this house his entire life, only ever going to town for quick trips to the grocer for food and books or to the department store for clothes. His grandfather taught him everything. He only trusted these walls.

“I can’t leave,” Castiel said, voice shaking.

“Cas, please.”

“I can’t,” Castiel whispered and left the living room, tracking bloody footprints into the kitchen.

Castiel pulled out a wooden chair from the kitchen table and sat down. He closed his eyes tried to breathe slowly. _In and out. In and out._ With eyes closed, he listened as Dean walked to the bedroom bathroom. The water began to run.

Castiel didn’t want to go. But he also didn’t want Dean to leave him.

“What am I supposed to do?”

Dean couldn’t stay. Those people would come and they’d find him. He could get hurt. It was safer for him elsewhere. But selfishly, Castiel didn’t want to be without him.

_Leave with him_ , his heart whispered. His mind disagreed. If he left everything he knew to go with Dean, if he gave Dean that kind of power, Dean would hurt him. That was just what people did, whether they intended to or not.

And then Castiel would have nothing.

No, not nothing. His house would still be here. All of his bills pulled from his bank account automatically. He’d be paid up no matter how long he left. And even if these hunters burned the place to the ground, Castiel would still own the land. He could rebuild, like his grandfather had done. What was too valuable to lose, he could bury in the woods, like his grandfather had done with the coffee tin every time he went to town.

_The coffee tin._

Castiel hopped to his feet, hurried to the cupboard and retrieved it. With haste, he placed it down on the table, pried the lid off, and dug out the locket first. Once it was safely stored in the pocket of his jeans, he reached back in for the letter.

He ran his fingers over the grooves of his name before flipping open the envelope. He pulled out a single, crisp sheet of paper, folded in thirds. Inside, written in the same fancy script, read, “My dearest son, you mustn’t be afraid to live or you never will.”


	2. Chapter 2

Dean washed the blood from his torso with a damp washcloth. Then he searched through the cabinet under the sink. When he found an unopened toothbrush in the cabinet, he added some tooth paste and started scrubbing to get the flesh and blood out from between his teeth. He spit out into the sink and then added more of Castiel’s toothpaste to brush all over again. He doubted Castiel would mind; it must be hard to have a conversation with a guy covered in someone else’s blood.

Once satisfied, Dean dabbed dry the toothbrush and set it aside. Castiel wouldn’t have any need for a dirty toothbrush and Dean could probably use it on the next leg of his journey. He’d ask Castiel if he could have it, of course – actually, he should have done that before he used it. _Oops_.

Dean sighed as he looked down at the mess he made. Blood splattered the basin of the porcelain sink and stained the wet green wash cloth that hung over the side. Dean himself was clean now – naked, but clean. Though Castiel had certainly caught an eyeful when Dean went wolf on that damned hunter.

He wasn’t making a very good first impression on his potential mate – well, he was making a hell of an impression alright, just the _wrong_ one.

Castiel didn’t want to come with him. Dean couldn’t exactly blame him. _Hey, guess what? Werewolves are real, I’m one of them, you might be my life mate, and we’re being hunted so let’s go_ , was a lot to take in for a human. If he said all that to a werewolf, of course, they’d go with him in a heartbeat. Life mates were no joke to his kind. Fate granted only one perfect other for a wolf. To find them, that wolf would do anything, take any risk.

Dean hadn’t really understood it before, but with Castiel? He felt like he found a vital part of him he hadn’t known was missing.

Too bad that vital part didn’t want anything to do with him.

Dean used the wet washcloth to wipe clean the sink basin as best he could before tossing it right into the trash with an annoyed snarl. All he accomplished was smearing out all the blood specks. _Useless_.

He grabbed his claimed toothbrush and stormed into Castiel’s bedroom. As soon as he walked through the door, he relaxed, the warm smell of Castiel tickling his nose. This was what mates did – grounded their partners in the present, in the _real_. Together, they were satisfied. They were home.

But this wasn’t Dean’s home. He hadn’t been invited.

Steeling himself against the comforting smell that threatened to disarm him and his guarded heart, Dean started walking for the door when he noticed a change of clothes laid out on the bed beside a plastic bag. He peeked in the bag and found his clothes, neatly folded though still damp. He should change into those clothes since they were his and not bother Castiel any more than he already had, but the clothes on the bed looked dry and warm, and _that smell_. Dean picked up the flannel shirt and buried his nose in it, inhaling Castiel’s familiar scent.

He pulled on the t-shirt first and then the flannel. Both were tight across the chest, but Dean found the snug fit doable when coupled with the fact the clothes belonged to Castiel – _my mate_. Well, almost. Maybe. Potentially. They needed to spend more time together to test the strength of their bond. Fat chance of that.

Dean reached for the jeans next, curious when he saw a pair of sweatpants underneath. This turned out to be a good call on Castiel’s part, as Dean could barely get his calves into the thin pant legs. He gave up at the knees, knowing he’d never be able to stretch them over his wide thighs. He might rip them if he tried. He kicked them off, not wanting to ruin anything else of Castiel’s, and grabbed the sweatpants instead. When he held them up to assess their size, a pair of white briefs fluttered down off the bed onto the floor.

Dean snatched them up without really thinking about what they were and just _who_ they belonged to, but when the thoughts did occur to him, he stopped, frozen like a statue, holding a pair of sweats in one hand and _Castiel’s briefs_ in the other. They were clean, of course – _had to be_. Castiel probably left them out for Dean to maybe use. But they were _Castiel’s_. Even clean, _Castiel had at some point worn these._

Image upon image flashed through Dean’s mind, all of them Castiel in various positions in the bedroom, sporting these little white briefs. Castiel strutting out of the bathroom, hair still damp, with maybe some water dripping down onto his bare chest. Castiel bent over, digging through his dresser for a clean pair of pants or a shirt. Castiel walking to the kitchen in the early morning to make tea in just his white briefs and Dean’s t-shirt. Castiel and Dean instilling a “No pants Sunday” rule, sitting together on the couch in briefs and boxers, watching whatever channel Castiel got on that old television set in the corner.

Then Dean dropped the briefs to the floor, because his fantasies of Castiel had turned into domestic mated bliss and thereby _impossible_.

Frustrated, Dean dug through his bag of clothes, finding his boxers cold and wet beneath his jeans. He grabbed them and stuffed his legs into them. They clung uncomfortably to parts of Dean that had recently decided to shift with interest, but he huffed and ignored it. If nothing else, the damp boxers might help kill his inappropriate boner. Even more frustrated now, Dean pulled on Castiel’s sweatpants. They were too short at the ankles, but the elastic waistband stretched around Dean’s stomach without digging in too much. _Better than wet jeans_. He grabbed a pair of white socks and his bag of clothes and headed out into the living room.

Cas wasn’t there.

“Cas?” Dean peeked into the kitchen but Castiel wasn’t there either. “Cas?”

Dean stopped at the front door. The hunter had been pulled into the front yard. A mop leaned against the open front door, though only half of the blood puddle had been mostly cleaned – it looked like the blood had just been pushed around a bit. A set of boot prints marched through the mopped side.

Dean’s stomach dropped to the floorboards. “ _Cas?_ ” he called, louder than before.

Abandoning his bag and socks beside the couch, Dean jumped across the blood puddle and hurried, barefoot, out into the front yard. He searched the front tree line and the small open yard, but couldn’t see Castiel anywhere. Frantic, he looked back toward the cabin, searching for signs of a struggle or hints to what happened.

“ _Cas?!_ ” he called, voice breaking. He suddenly hated his damn weak human side, so inept at detecting smells out in the open like this. He was just starting to shift when he heard Castiel’s voice.

“I’m back here, Dean!”

“Where?” Dean swallowed hard. Was Castiel hiding? Had he been captured?

“Right here.” Castiel stepped out from around the house. He carried a shovel in mud-dirtied hands. His jeans were brown at the knees, and a smudge of dirt was smeared across his forehead. He wore a sweatshirt Dean recognized from Castiel’s closet, with the sleeves pushed up the elbows. At his neck, dangled a curious gold locket on a chain that he hadn’t been wearing before, at least not on the outside of his clothes.

Dean hurried to meet him at the front corner of the house. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Of course,” Castiel said. Dean circled him, looking for any obvious wounds. Castiel lifted a brow but didn’t comment on it otherwise. “I just wanted to hide some valuables in case more hunters come, as you said.”

“They’d be here for us, not your stuff, Cas,” Dean said, coming around to Castiel’s front. He took a deep breath to calm himself. Nothing had happened. Castiel was okay.

“Well, in case they burn down the house, then,” Castiel said, as if that were the obvious next step. Hunters didn’t usually bother burning houses, just bodies. Castiel’s eyes glazed over a bit, like he had just stepped into a time or place very far from here, so Dean touched his shoulder to bring him back. He blinked and returned, glancing down at the shovel in his hands then back up at Dean. “I’m coming with you.”

“You… you are?” Dean dared to hope. Last he had heard, Castiel wasn’t going to leave this house _ever_.

Castiel bit his plump bottom lip, reddening it just a little. “If you still want me.”

“Oh, _hell_ , yes,” Dean said before he realized what he was saying. He coughed and glanced at the side of the house, the grass, the gray sky – anywhere but at Castiel’s lips again. Except that thinking about them drew his gaze right back there like his eyeballs were caught in some kind of tractor beam. “I mean, of course, dude. Whatever you want.”

“Good.” The skin crinkled beside Castiel’s eyes like he might smile but it never formed on his lips. “I packed light. Just let me shower quickly and we can go.”

“Okay,” Dean said, still dumbfounded. Castiel was going _with him_. His potential mate was _staying by his side_.

Castiel laid the shovel against the side of the house. “Should we bury him?” He motioned with one hand toward the hunter corpse in the front yard.

The thought of hunters and dead bodies jarred Dean from his stupor, and he shook his head.

“More respectful not to. The other hunters will want to take him. They have their own funeral rites and graveyard.”

“I see.” Castiel left the shovel and walked toward the house, Dean in his shadow. He hopped over the blood puddle by the front door and Dean followed suit.

“I can clean this up for you while you shower.” Dean reached for the mop.

“Don’t bother,” Castiel said, walking toward the bedroom. “When they burn the place down, it won’t matter.”

Dean frowned. This was the second time Castiel had brought up arson. “Hey, Cas?” he started, ready to just ask about it, but when Castiel looked back over his shoulder with that distant look again, Dean figured he’d better let it drop – at least, for now. Castiel had been through enough today. Dean wasn’t about to drag him through all his bad memories on top of everything else. “Nevermind.”

Castiel nodded and went into the bedroom’s bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Dean looked down at the bloodstain.

 

* * *

 

By the time Castiel had reappeared from his bedroom, Dean had cleaned the blood from the floorboards and pulled most of the buckshot from the walls and door. He couldn’t do anything with the holes just yet, not without more time and supplies, but he was pretty happy with what he had managed to accomplish.

“You didn’t have to,” Castiel said but he sounded pleased. Dean looked over to gauge his reaction, but his gaze never quite reached Castiel’s face, hung up instead on Castiel’s _outfit_.

Jeans that had been too small on Dean hugged every inch of Castiel’s long legs. A black turtle neck covered up to his sharp jawline. Over that, he wore a deep red sweater vest with large stitching, like it had been made by hand and not a machine, and atop that, a gray zip-up hoodie with the zipper undone. Dean’s gaze slipped back down those legs, because _hot damn_ , this guy must run every day of his life to get a build like that, and then dropped down further to brown leather boots that, unlike Dean’s steel toed ones, favored style over purpose, rising high and tight above the ankle.

“Dean? Are you alright?”

Dean closed his mouth because apparently it had been hanging open. “Huh? Oh, yeah.”

“I said, you didn’t have to.”

“It really wasn’t any trouble.” Dean pried his eyes away from the could-have-been supermodel in front of him to track down his borrowed socks and his own boots. He found them by the foot of the couch. His leather jacket hung over the arm.

“Oh.” Castiel bit his lip and Dean focused all of his attention on tying his shoes before he could get lost looking at Castiel’s mouth – _again_. “Thank you.”

Dean grunted but didn’t argue. He didn’t deserve thanks when it was his fault to begin with, but he didn’t want to fight about it.

Castiel went into his bedroom again as Dean finished with his boots. He stood and pulled on his leather jacket, flipping up the collar to protect him from the wind. He hadn’t seen a car around here, figured they’d probably be walking most of the way to – well, wherever it was that they were going.

Dean didn’t really have a destination, wherever wasn’t here or _home_. No, not home anymore – not since the exile. He sighed, half-hoping Castiel wasn’t his mate so that Castiel wouldn’t be tied to a wolf so majorly messed up. Castiel deserved so much more than what Dean was and what little he could offer.

Castiel walked back into the living room wrapped in a black parka with a gray backpack strapped over his shoulders. He carried a matching one in his arms and handed it to Dean.

“No, Cas. I can’t accept that.” _I’ve taken too much already_.

Castiel pressed those plump lips together. ““I’m coming with you to escape these hunters, Dean. I don’t know what we’re up against, but you need to let me help you.”

“I don’t do charity,” Dean said, but then frowned at himself. Charity was basically the basis of his and Castiel’s relationship so far. He wanted it to be so much more.

Castiel shifted the pack on his back. “But aren’t mates...” He let the words drop.

“What?” Dean pressed.

Castiel stared at the ground as he asked, “Are mates… an equal partnership?”

Dean wanted to kick himself. What kind of terrible impression was he giving Castiel anyway?

“Yes,” he said, firm, hoping to eliminate any and all doubt from Castiel’s worried eyes.

He grabbed the bag. There was no logo or wash tag in sight. Had this also been handmade? He opened it and found a small bag of toiletries – some toothpaste and a sealed container with a bar of soap. After he added his toothbrush and his clothes, he stood and slung it onto his shoulders. Then he stretched his neck from side to side. “Ready?”

Castiel stared at his exposed neck. “One second,” he said before disappearing into the bedroom again. He returned with a greenish patchwork scarf clutched in his hands. “It matches your eyes – well, part of your eyes – and… I know you don’t want gifts but you still aren’t completely well and if you get sicker, I won’t know what to do out there, and I –“

“Okay.” Dean reached out for the scarf. An equal partnership meant accepting help. Dean wouldn’t disappoint Castiel again – not if he could help it. He didn’t have the heart to tell Castiel that his wolf blood made him heal faster than a human.

Dean tied the scarf around his neck while Castiel watched, his face doing that eye-crinkling-though-not-quite-smiling thing again.

“We better hit the road,” Dean said. “When our friend goes twelve hours without calling in, there’s going to be a party around here. And we’ll be the piñatas.”

Castiel’s brow pulled together. “What’s a piñata?”

“You serious?” Dean asked. When Castiel’s response was to only look more confused, Dean tried not to think about how adorable he looked with his nose all scrunched. “Let’s just go.”

Outside, Dean took one last look around before asking what he knew to be in vain, “You wouldn’t happen to have a car stashed around here, would you?”

Castiel shook his head. “Just a bike.”

Dean’s hope spiked. “Motorcycle?”

“Bicycle.”

Dean’s hope crashed right back down. “Oh. Guess we’re walking then.”

“Which way?” Castiel looked around. Dean tensed when he looked in the one direction they couldn’t go – back to Dean’s old home.

“Any way but that way,” Dean said, and though Castiel’s head tilted a little, curiously, he didn’t ask why. Dean counted his blessings.

“Alright,” Castiel said instead, and started walking in the opposite direction, trekking into the woods.

Dean, grateful, followed behind.

“How far will we go?” Castiel asked.

“As far as we can.”

“Will they ever stop chasing us?”

“Eventually. Leaving that hunter’s body out is a peace offering. They might cut us some slack.” Dean really hoped so, anyway.

“Seems strange. You’d think the death of a friend would only make them more determined.”

“He came to kill us and we defended ourselves. That’s just part of the drill.” Dean shrugged. “Hunters know the risks. They know they live on the edge and any hunt could be the last.”

“Still.”

“We showed respect with a clean kill and no corpse defilement. Trust me, that’s what really pisses them off.”

“So they might stop.”

“Eventually. Maybe. But Cas –” Dean grabbed Castiel’s arm, stopping him. Castiel looked back at him. “Don’t be confused. If they catch us, they won’t place nice. They’ll kill me and then you. No if’s, and’s, or but’s about it.”

“I understand,” Castiel said, holding Dean’s gaze. Dean nodded and released Castiel’s arm. “You seem to know a lot about the hunters.”

“Have to.” Dean stepped past Castiel but didn’t start walking again until Castiel fell into step beside him. “Either you learn their habits or you end up dead, especially when you’re on your own. They don’t like wild cards. Too many wolves go after humans. Life with a pack is a little safer.”

“I see.”

They continued on in silence, trekking through the thick brush until around midday, when Castiel’s stomach grumbled loud enough for Dean to hear. Dean turned back to Castiel who had stopped to dig through his backpack.

“Sorry, I forgot to eat this morning.” Castiel retrieved two granola bars. He held one out for Dean, but Dean shook his head.

“I don’t need to eat that often,” Dean said. Inwardly, he kicked himself. He hadn’t exactly planned this trip outside of getting Castiel away from the hunters. Castiel needed cooked food, shelter, heat – none of which Dean could offer him with a hike through the woods. At this rate, Castiel would either starve or freeze by nightfall. And Dean wouldn’t be too far behind.

Great _job being a protective mate, Dean._

“We need to start heading for town,” Dean said.

Castiel ripped open the wrapper and started munching on his granola bar. “Won’t the hunters be in town?”

“We have to chance it.”

“Why?”

 _Because I’m not going to watch you starve or freeze to death_. Dean didn’t want to say that but he couldn’t lie either. Lies were physically impossible between mates. “Going to get cold tonight.”

“I should be fine in my coat.”

“And what are you going to eat?” Dean said, remembering the sad, barren state of Castiel’s kitchen.

Castiel held up the second granola bar.

“Dude, no. You have to eat.”

“No, I –”

“Which way to town?”

“Dean,” Castiel started.

“Which way to town, Cas?”

“You’re impossible.”

“Because I want to save your life?”

Castiel shook his head. “You want to save me from minor inconvenience at the cost of your own safety.”

“ _Eating_ is not a minor inconvenience.”

“It is compared to _dying_.”

“You need to eat to live!” Dean took a step into Castiel’s personal space. What did he have to say to make him understand? “I’m trying to protect you!”

Castiel held his ground, and stuck his chin up. “No, that’s what I’m trying to do – for you!”

Dean squashed the warmth blooming in his heart by thinking of Castiel frozen like a popsicle under a tree. “Yeah.” He rolled his eyes. “Because killing yourself is the best way to protect me.”

“But _you_ killing _yourself_ is somehow better?”

“ _I’m_ expendable,” Dean said, leaning in, yelling the words right in Castiel’s face. Castiel’s blue eyes widened; all trace of anger vanished from his features. “You’re…” Dean’s words caught in his throat as he realized how very close he now stood to Castiel and how Castiel’s angry scowl had somehow softened into sadness – pity. “You’re _not_ ,” Dean finished and backed away, turning back toward the trees.

“You’re not either,” Castiel said, softly.

“We’re going to town.” Dean started walking again.

“Dean.”

“What?” Dean whipped around, tense, ready for an argument.

A muscle ticked in Castiel’s jaw. He pointed to the side. “There’s a town this way.”

 

* * *

 

By nightfall, as they stood in the midst of thick forest, Dean knew two things. One, Castiel had lied. And two, because he had been able to lie, Castiel was not Dean’s mate. Even humans weren’t immune to the binds of mating. He shouldn’t have been able to lie.

“We’ll camp here,” Dean said at a particularly large tree, the first words uttered since the lie. The roots were large and curved around a dip at the base where Castiel could sleep against the trunk.

“I’m not sorry,” Castiel said, and all remnants of warmth that had accumulated in Dean’s chest vanished like they had never existed at all.

“I get that.” Dean tried for stiff and detached, but his sadness still shown through, too overwhelming not to. His voice shook a little.

Castiel dropped his backpack onto the ground. “Dean?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Dean didn’t know what else to say. His hurt was disappointment and just a touch of self-hatred. He should have known better than to get his hopes up. Castiel was too good for him, deserved so much better. Dean rolled his shoulders back. “I’m going to look around. Get comfortable. I’ll be back.”

In a small voice, Castiel asked, “Will you?”

“I wouldn’t leave you out here.” _Mate or not._

Dean walked away briskly before Castiel could say anything else. After a while, he pressed out from the woods onto pavement. He almost couldn’t believe it when he saw a full-service gas station across the road. The sign in the window said closed, but Dean hustled there anyway, looking for a phone. He found a pay phone on the left side of the building, wedged between the brick wall and the empty parking lot. He didn’t have any money so he dialed collect to one person he knew would answer, despite his recent falling out with his pack.

Jessica Moore accepted the charges after the third ring.

“Thanks, Jess,” Dean said.

“You are in a world of shit, Dean,” Jess said, sans any greeting.

“You’re telling me. I’m _living_ it.”

“How many hunters did you kill?”

“Just one right now.” Dean sighed. “So far.”

“It’s your own damn fault. If you’d only –”

“I didn’t call to talk about this,” Dean cut her off.

“I bet you didn’t.”

“I need your help. I need a ride. You aren’t in our pack yet… their pack. It’s not in their authority to punish you for helping an exile.”

“ _Shit._ Sam didn’t say you were an exile.” She sighed. “Some of us want to be a part of a pack, Dean. They already hate me. They won’t let me in for sure if they know I helped someone they kicked out.”

“I won’t tell them.”

“It’s too risky.”

“Then why’d you even accept the call?” Dean said, frustration spiking. He didn’t have anyone else. Jess had to help, or Castiel could spend all night out here and freeze to death.

“You know why. I owe you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m calling that in.”

Jess paused and when her voice came back, surprise replaced her annoyance. “You get that you saved my life, right? You’re going to waste a favor that big on whatever this is?”

“It’s not just me. It’s my… my friend. I might make it another day or two, but him? _Jesus_ , Jess, he doesn’t even have food to eat. He’s either going to stare or freeze to death, and he won’t go to town because he’s stupidly trying to protect me, and –”

“ _Shit_ , you found your mate.”

Dean knew he should correct her, but he didn’t quite have the heart for it. “I don’t know.”

“It’s a no brainer, Dean, if you’re really calling this in.”

“I am.”

Jess laughed. “Then give me the address, lover boy.”

 

* * *

 

By the time Dean made it back to where he had left Castiel, night had settled fully in and his legs trembled in exhaustion. He went back to the grove, guided by moonlight and a well-trained memory, and found Castiel curled up against the bottom of the tree.

Dean dropped his backpack beside Castiel’s and sat beside him under the tree, separated by a good foot of empty space. He resolved not to look at Castiel at all, but when Castiel began to shiver, Dean couldn’t stop a glance.

Hands tucked deep into his pockets, Castiel had curled in on himself. His breath puffed, visible, from his lips. His body shook once, twice. He mumbled and whined incoherently before curling in on himself tighter, but then he only shook more.

At this rate, he wouldn’t make it the five hours it would take Jess to find them.

“Damn it, Cas,” Dean said, hating that the guy hadn’t just shown him the right way to town. “This is your own damned fault. We could be in a bed right now.” He swallowed as he inched closer. “Two beds, I mean.”

Still asleep, Castiel reached out for him, perhaps drawn to the warmth. Dean sighed and gave it to him, slinking ever closer until their bodies lined from shoulder to hip. Castiel seemed to want more however, and didn’t stop shifting until he was firmly planted on Dean’s lap, with his nose pressed into Dean’s scarf and his arms wrapped securely around Dean’s chest.

The cold kept Dean’s mind from venturing too far into thoughts of sex – of how _good_ this position would be if they didn’t have clothes in the way and if it was warmer. His flickering arousal vanished altogether when he remembered Castiel’s lie.

 _Not my mate. Not_ mine.

Still, he clung to Castiel, wanting to at least pretend, just like this, for only a little while. Castiel’s closeness, even if strictly platonic, was a balm for Dean’s loneliness.

Dean placed his nose to Castiel’s hair and breathed deep, smelling firewood and flowery shampoo.

“I wish you were mine,” Dean whispered and didn’t let go.


	3. Chapter 3

 

Castiel woke up warm, wrapped in a puffy comforter on a mattress. At first, he snuggled down deep into the covers, ready to sleep away what he assumed was still the early morning hours, given that it was dark in the room. But then he remembered Dean. And the woods. And _this is not my house_.

He snapped upright, squinting to see in the darkness. It seemed like a bedroom, with a nightstand and a digital clock reading _4:19_ in red brick numbers. He crawled out of bed, socked feet touching soft carpet and padded his way to a door with a light underneath. He turned the knob but stopped when he heard Dean’s voice on the other side.

“They threw him in the river. What was I supposed to do, just let them go?”

“Yes!” a woman exclaimed. “That’s what you _do_ in a pack, Dean – defer judgment to the alpha.”

“He was going to let them go, Jess.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You weren’t there.”

“ _Dean_.”

Something skidded across what sounded like tile. “I’m going to go stay with Cas. I don’t want him to wake up here alone. Guy’s had enough trauma.”

At the sound of his name, Castiel listened harder, pressing his ear flat against the door.

“He’ll have more if he stays with you,” Jess said.

“You think I don’t know that,” Dean snapped. Then he sighed. “The hunters are after him now too, Jess. Because he was nice to me. The guy’s about to go through hell for being nice to someone.”

“Not just someone.”

“Don’t start.”

“Then don’t be so damned scared of it,” Jess said. “It’s humiliating. I’m honestly embarrassed for you.”

“Whatever.”

Footsteps moved closer, so Castiel scurried back to bed and slid under the covers. He tucked himself in just as the knob turned and the door opened.

He didn’t know why he pretended to sleep, why he didn’t feign stirring even as Dean crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, or why he didn’t move except to breathe when Dean stretched out in the empty space behind him, warming it like a living space heater.

“I’m sorry, Cas,” Dean whispered into the dark between them. “I never should have gone to your door.”

Castiel frowned. “You would have died,” he said, no longer able to keep up the ruse.

“I know,” Dean said, unfazed, as if he had known Castiel was awake all the while.

Castiel flipped over to face Dean, who laid with his head against the headboard, staring blankly forward. “You want to die?”

“Would have been better for you.”

“No,” Castiel said, firm. Dean glanced over and Castiel held his gaze. “I don’t regret meeting you.”

Dean shook his head. “You can’t say that yet. You don’t know.”

“I don’t know what? That we’re mates? I think I have a decent idea.” It wasn’t bullshit. Even now, in this strange apartment, Castiel knew he should be asking questions, _Where are we? What’s going on? Who’s Jess?_ But in Dean’s presence, he felt no sense of urgency, no great danger. With Dean here, he felt safe. Protected. Dean wouldn’t endanger Castiel, and he spoke to that woman like a friend. Castiel might not know where he was, but he knew that Dean wouldn’t put him at risk.

“You don’t know.” Dean’s lips curled downward ever so slightly. His brow pulled together. “Damn it, Cas. You should have just left me out on your porch for the hunters.”

Castiel reached out from under the blankets and brushed his thumb along the stubble at Dean’s jaw. Then he flattened out his hand and fully cupped Dean’s cheek. Dean leaned into the touch, like a reflex.

“I wasn’t going to leave you there,” Castiel said. Dean closed his eyes. “I don’t know what you believe, Dean. I won’t pretend to know what you are thinking. But… just know that what I feel for you, I have not felt for anyone before.”

“Cas, please,” Dean started, looking pained, but Castiel had to finish. He had to let Dean know just how important he was, even if the feelings weren’t returned.

“I want to be yours, Dean. And maybe we’ll find out that I’m not. But I want to be.”

Dean’s eyes opened. In the dark, the green shimmered. He blinked and they looked wet. “Cas,” he said, pained, as if the word had been ripped out of him. He turned into Castiel’s hand and kissed the fluttering pulse point at the wrist.

“I want to be yours,” Castiel said again. With his hand on Dean’s face, Castiel drew him closer until Dean rested on one elbow, his body leaning over Castiel’s. Then Castiel pushed himself up and pressed his lips to Dean’s.

Castiel had never kissed before, but he’d read a handful of romance novels and watched enough old films to understand the basics. He had never understood desire before, but that vanished the instant Dean opened his mouth, accepting Castiel’s curious tongue.

“Say it again,” Dean murmured against his lips.

“I want to be yours.”

Dean smiled and dove back toward Castiel’s mouth, this time coaxing Castiel’s lips apart with his own tongue and probing deep. Castiel licked along the edge of Dean’s intruding tongue then moaned when Dean chased his.

Castiel reached up, brushing his fingers through Dean’s brown hair, then stopped at the back of his head to hold him close while their tongues danced and tangled. One of Dean’s hands traced up one side of Castiel’s torso, pressing the feather-stuffed blanket into Castiel’s chest.

Dean tasted like pumpkin-flavored coffee, and Castiel couldn’t help but hum at the deliciousness of him. He lapped at his mouth, his tongue, his teeth, and even his lips when Dean had pulled away a bit.

“You are making it very difficult to be a gentleman about this.” Dean rested his forehead against Castiel’s. Their noses pressed together, his lips brushed Castiel’s as he spoke. “God, you’re so perfect.”

“I don’t want to be perfect.” Castiel brought his second hand up to bury it in Dean’s hair beside the first, holding Dean close, unwilling to let this moment end. “I just want to be yours.”

Dean growled deep in his throat and met Castiel for a searing kiss.

“It’s not fair,” Dean mumbled between kisses.

“What?” Castiel asked, before dragging him back for more.

“If you were mine –” Kiss. “The things I’d do –” Kiss. “To you.” Kiss. “ _For_ you.”

“Then make me yours,” Castiel said, already half-hard in his jeans.

“That’s not how it works.” Dean pulled back a little and licked his kiss-swollen red lips. “I wish it was.”

“Me, too,” Castiel said, meaning it with the entirety of his heart.

“Cas, I –”

“You don’t have to say it.” Castiel moved his hands up Dean’s head, caressing his scalp. He guessed, “You don’t know yet for sure, and this isn’t something you can rush.” Dean’s hesitation to answer confirmed his suspicion. “We’ll wait until we know.”

That now-familiar pain returned to Dean’s eyes. “Cas,” he said, but didn’t elaborate. Eventually, he pushed himself down and dropped his forehead onto Castiel’s comforter-covered chest. Castiel continued to stroke through his hair softly, hoping to ease whatever haunted him.

“It’s alright,” Castiel promised. “We’re alright.”

The continuous motion meant to soothe Dean calmed Castiel instead, until he sat on the very cusp of sleep.

“No, Cas,” Dean whispered, though Castiel couldn’t be sure if it was a dream. “Nothing is alright.”

 

* * *

 

Castiel awoke secure in Dean’s arms. Sometime in the early morning hours, Castiel, wrapped like a burrito in the feather-stuffed comforter, had shifted atop Dean, who wrapped both arms around him.

The clock on the nightstand read _10:15_. The sun lit the room fully now, sneaking in through the opened slats of the venetian blinds. The parts of the room Castiel hadn’t been able to see before were decorated simply, a dresser with a mirror overtop, and a landscape painting hanging above the bed – impersonal things, that led Castiel to believe this was either a guest room or a suite hotel room.

Castiel half-wanted to stay in bed all day, just like this, safe and warm and comfortable with Dean snug and close, but his curiosity ate at him. He had yet to meet this Jess, or even know who she was. Plus, he was a bit hungry. He wondered if there was any food nearby.

He tried to wiggle free from Dean’s embrace, but Dean’s arms tightened before he’d barely gotten three inches.

“Dean.” Castiel nudged Dean’s shoulder with his own. His arms were trapped in the cocoon of blankets.

Dean mumbled something unintelligible.

“Dean,” Castiel said, louder. His stomach rumbled in emphasis. “I need to eat.”

“Kitchen… food…” Dean loosened his hold and turned like he was about to get up, but as soon as the side of his face hit the pillow, he stopped and let out a snore.

Castiel smiled down at Dean, watching him nuzzle the pillow between deep contented breaths until his stomach grumbled again. He slipped out from under the covers and off the bed. Then he rearranged the comforter so that it covered Dean, even tucking it in a bit at the waist and legs.

“Cas,” Dean mumbled, smiling into the pillow.

With a fresh warmth in his chest, Castiel walked to the door. He turned the knob slowly, so as not to wake Dean with a loud clack, and then moved into the hallway in search of the kitchen. He found it a few steps later. The apartment wasn’t large, a two bedroom with one bathroom. The kitchen sat off the living room, where a sofa was positioned in front of a small, boxy television. The kitchen had a refrigerator, a sink, and a stove. A microwave sat atop a laminate countertop. Beside it stood a tall cabinet with a slotted door. Castiel searched there first, and found it stuffed with cereals, crackers, cookies, and canned goods like soup and beans. He retrieved a box of cereal, noting that the expiration date was still a few weeks off.

Someone lived here, or at least visited often.

He found a clean bowl in the overhead cabinets and some fresh milk in the refrigerator. There wasn’t a table and chairs so he sat down on the couch to eat his cereal. He ate in silence, with only his constant munching sounding in the small apartment. When he was almost finished, with only a bite or two left, the front door swung open, and a woman with three or four plastic bags hanging from each arm traipsed inside.

She wore a thick tan peacoat, with a blue and white striped scarf wrapped tight around her neck. Dark jeans tucked into knee-high brown boots. Her blonde hair was curly and wild, framing a rounded face of pale skin. She looked to be around Castiel’s age, in her late twenties, like Dean, and Castiel half-wondered what their relationship was. He guessed from the shimmering glow to her eyes that she was a werewolf like Dean, but did they grow up together? How did they know each other at all?

She didn’t notice Castiel until after she had shut the door behind her. He sat there, frozen, with his spoon halfway between the cereal and his mouth, unsure what to do.

She rolled her eyes. “You going to help me with these or what?”

“Oh! Of course.” Castiel hopped to his feet. Holding the bowl in one hand he reached for some bags with the other. “I apologize.”

“Gorgeous _and_ polite. Dean better get his head on straight and claim you already, Castiel,” the woman said. Castiel recognized her voice as the woman who spoke with Dean last night, though he didn’t want to address her with the wrong title. Instead, he just smiled shyly and took the bags from one of her arms. Finally, as they walked back to the kitchen, she said, “I’m Jessica Moore. Friends call me Jess.”

“Hello.” Castiel placed the bags on the counter and his bowl in the sink beside a mug with brown ring in its bottom. As he turned on the hot water and reached for the dish soap, he spotted Jess looking at him with one brow raised.

“You do dishes, too?” Jess asked, laughing.

Castiel looked into the sink basin with confusion. “I dirtied it.” Was this incorrect? Did people usually not wash their own dishes? He bit his lip, feeling a little embarrassed, and wished he had spent more time in the town around people other than his grandfather.

“Hey, relax. You look like a kicked puppy.” Jess shoved his shoulder. “Trust me, cleaning up after yourself isn’t a bad thing. Actually, it’s the opposite.” She pointed at the dirty mug. “Dean’s, I bet.”

“I’m sure he’ll get to it,” Castiel said, even as he added some soap into the mug.

Jess smirked. “Don’t let him make you clean up all his messes.”

“He saved my life. I think I can clean one mug.”

“Sure he saved it.” Jess shuffled through the bags, placing the ones filled with clothes onto the floor. “He _should_ , after all, since he was the one who endangered it in the first place.”

Castiel pressed hard into the mug with the washcloth.

“You think hunters would have shown up at your house if Dean hadn’t plopped himself down on your doorstep?”

Castiel clamped his jaw. He couldn’t say anything, even though he really, really wanted to. This woman took him and Dean into her home. Castiel couldn’t defend Dean here, now, to the person who helped save both their lives.

“I bet he didn’t even tell you why he was there.” Jess shrugged. “That’s just how it is with him, you know? Oh, maybe you don’t.” She shook her head. “Layer upon layer of secrets.”

Castiel dropped the clean bowl down on the counter with a sharp snap. She looked over at him, surprised.

“If you hate him so much, why did you help us?” Castiel said.

Jess stood up straight, matching Castiel’s rigid posture if not his height. “I don’t hate him. He’s practically a brother to me. What I hate are his _choices_. He’s the most self-destructive person I’ve ever met, and if you let him, he’ll take you right down with him.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes. “I don’t like the way you speak of him.”

Jess laughed, once, bitterly. “Then you haven’t seen it yet. Give it time.” She turned back to the bags. “And don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Castiel turned back to the sink to clean Dean’s mug. He knew he should let this drop. No matter what she said next, he wasn’t likely to have a favorable opinion of Jess after what she’d said. Dean wasn’t a bad guy. He wouldn’t hurt Castiel. Still, his curiosity got the better of him and he asked again, “Why _did_ you help us?”

Jess lifted one shoulder. “Dean helped me out of a bad spot once. He called in a favor.” She pulled a pack of granola bars out of the bag; they were the same brand and flavor as the ones Castiel had packed and eaten the day before. “Though if anyone asks, I’ll deny helping you up and down. You understand?” She wasn’t looking at him, but Castiel could plainly hear the threat in the stern tone of her voice.

“I understand,” he said, inwardly vowing to keep her secret. He might not like the way she spoke about Dean, but he could do this, in exchange for her taking them in.

“Oh, and not that you’d ever meet her, but don’t tell my friend Bela you’ve been here,” Jess went on, voice lighter than before. “This is her apartment. She’s out of town with her new boy toy. He’s barely nineteen. I don’t know where she finds these guys. Anyway, she’d be furious if she knew I had a couple of loners here.”

“Loners?” Castiel asked, ignoring the rest.

“Wolf talk. It means you’re both unpledged to any alpha. Loners. Without a pack. Well, Dean’s an exile, I guess, but same thing.”

“Oh. But I’m human.”

“You’re a potential mate. And you know about us. You might as well be one of us now. And worse, you’re paired with Dean. The whole world is after him.”

Castiel rinsed off the mug and then placed it beside the bowl. He turned off the water, draped the wet washcloth over the lip of the sink, and then reached for the dishes to dry them. Jess beat him to it, patting the bowl and mug dry with a paper towel before returning them to their spots in the cabinet.

“You aren’t going to ask me why Dean’s in trouble?” Jess asked, side-eyeing him.

“No. If he wants me to know, he’ll tell me himself.”

She laughed a little then without the earlier bitterness. When she looked at him again, her alien-blue green eyes held a sliver of fondness. It lasted only for a moment, before something hard and unreadable replaced it. “You be careful with your heart.” Jess reached, snatched the bags off the ground and handed them to him. “These are for him. Go on.” She smiled then, not unkindly though it didn’t quite reach her eyes, and winked. “Don’t tell me you don’t want to watch him change.”

Castiel’s face turned hot. He grabbed the bags and retreated back to the bedroom without another word. He closed the door behind him, careful to move the knob slowly as to not wake Dean with a loud latch. Then he leaned back against the closed door, clunking his head against the wood.

This entire situation was just getting more and more complicated.

A moan startled Castiel from his thoughts.

Dean, with his stomach to the mattress, wriggled against it. His shirt rode up, and the comforter had been kicked down to his feet. The borrowed sweatpants had been tugged down his backside. If he wore underwear at all, Castiel didn’t see it. He could only see the swell and dip of Dean’s ass as he humped against the bed.

“Mmm,” Dean groaned, muffled by the pillow. “Oh, _Cas_.”

Castiel froze. That was his name Dean moaned. Was Dean – could it be? _Is Dean really thinking of me?_

Dean humped against the bed, his ass tight with each thrust. Dean’s muscles flexed under the skin, and Castiel, enamored, couldn’t take his eyes away from those powerful thighs and hips. Dean turned his head so that the pillow brushed against his cheek and left his mouth unfiltered. His hands clamped around the pillow’s edges.

“Cas – _ah_!”

He ground hard against the bed, but as his pace increased, so did the frustration growing on his face. His moans shortened into whines. His nose scrunched and his brow pulled together. Then suddenly, he flipped onto his back, exposing his naked cock, red and hard, so much bigger and fuller than Castiel had previously seen.

Castiel’s pants felt tight. He held the doorknob and the bag in vice grips. He knew he should turn and leave, give Dean some privacy. But Castiel was weak. Dean was chanting his name like a prayer, and Castiel wanted to stay to hear it – to _see_ it.

Dean grabbed his cock and stroked fast. The frustration eased from his face. His frown disappeared when his mouth dropped open to form Castiel’s name, over and over.

“ _Shit_ , Cas,” Dean gasped as he swiped his thumb over the head of his dick. “So good. So perfect for me.” He pumped himself faster. His words became breathy and short. “Want you. Cas.” His voice fell into incoherent babble, punctuated by moans and Castiel’s name.

His hand moved fast, and his hips moved too, thrusting up into his fist. His back bowed. His eyes squeezed tight.

“ _Mine_ ,” he growled and came.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean laid still for a long moment, soaking in the afterglow. He was sticky, but relaxed. Everything felt so good. Thinking of Castiel naked and writhing beneath him had been everything he ever wanted – no, _more_. He never knew what he was missing before Castiel was there to fill his fantasies.

_If only Castiel hadn’t lied_ , Dean realized as he came back to his senses. _If only Cas was really mine._

He dropped his head down against the pillow and sighed. “Damn it,” he breathed. Then _stopped_. His mouth snapped closed. His eyes flew open. He inhaled.

The air smelled of trees and tea and a dash of flowery shampoo. _Castiel_. But this wasn’t the thin whispery scent that usually accompanied Dean’s almost-mate. Instead, the air was thick with it, heavy, near suffocating.

_Lust_.

Dean’s spent dick twitched. He turned his head toward the door and locked eyes with Castiel standing against the door, eyes wide, hands white-knuckled, and erection prominent in his jeans.

“I didn’t,” Castiel said, face beet red. “I should have –”

“Castiel,” Dean said, barely recognizing his own voice for how hoarse it was. Had he really made so much noise? He couldn’t remember. It was all a pleasure-filled haze. “It’s okay.”

Castiel’s mouth closed. His gaze dropped down to the mess on Dean’s stomach and shirt.

Dean pulled off his shirt and used it to wipe himself clean. Then he adjusted his pants to cover his dick. When he glanced back up, Castiel was now staring at his bare chest. Dean flexed his muscles. Castiel swallowed.

“I can help you.” Dean sat up and turned so that his legs dangled off the edge of the bed.

“W-with what?”

Dean lifted a brow and stared pointedly at the tent in Castiel’s pants.

Even the tips of Castiel’s ears turned red, though his smell grew even thicker. Dean breathed deeply and shuddered. Castiel smelled _so good_. In his sweatpants, his cock gave a valiant effort to harden again. Dean palmed himself and rose to his feet. Castiel stared.

“I-I don’t know if I…” Castiel shook his head a little. A twinge of fear soured his sweet scent.

Dean stopped in his tracks and held up his hands, palms out. “Whoa, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you, I just want to… uh… well…”

The fear subsided somewhat, though not entirely. “What?”

Dean coughed into his hand. “You know…”

Castiel narrowed his eyes.

“Pleasureyou.” Dean swallowed hard. “With my mouth.”

Castiel’s mouth fell open. He snapped it shut. “You want to…? With me…?”

Dean held his gaze. “Yes.”

Castiel’s hand left the doorknob. The bag he held fell to the floor. A nervousness clung to Castiel’s scent but no trace of fear. The lust thickened again, hot and sweet. Dean wanted more.

“You know what gets me off, Cas?” Dean asked, voice raspy. “Not the fucking, but the very idea of making you come undone, however I can get you. I want to watch you unravel under my hands and mouth. I want to see your face when you come because of me.”

“Dean,” Castiel said, something between a breath and a moan. He took a step, whispered, “Are you sure?”

“I want to suck your cock, baby. I’ve _dreamed_ of it.” Dean dropped to his knees. He kept his eyes on Castiel’s face, watching for any discomfort.

Castiel took another step and then another. When he was close enough, Dean slinked his fingers through Castiel’s belt loops and yanked him so close, the bulge in Castiel’s pants was right in front of his face.

Eyes hooded, Castiel stared down at him through his eyelashes.

“ _You_ sure?” Dean asked, praying for a yes. He’d back off though, in an instant, if Castiel wasn’t.

Castiel, still blushing and breathing fast, mumbled, “Yes,” and nodded. Shaky fingers reached for Dean’s bare skin, tracing over his shoulder bones.

Dean leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to the peak of Castiel’s bulge.

“Dean, please, yes,” Castiel whispered, broken though louder than before. “Yes. _Please_.”

Dean scratched his nails down Castiel’s denim-covered thighs. Then, after a gasp from Castiel’s lips, moved his hands up and popped open the button at Castiel’s waist. He pulled the zipper down.

“Dean.”

Dean’s fingers slid under the waistband of Castiel’s briefs at Castiel’s hips and lowered them, slowly. Castiel’s cock popped free. Dean pushed Castiel’s briefs and jeans down to his knees.

Then he wrapped a hand around Castiel’s length and watched, tentative, as Castiel’s brows lifted and his mouth fell open. His face was flushed, beautiful. The blush traveled down his neck and disappeared under his collar. Castiel’s chest shuddered in shaky breaths. Dean wanted to watch. He wanted to see _everything_.

He tugged at the bottom of Castiel’s t-shirt. “Take this off,” Dean said. Castiel immediately obeyed, revealing an endless expanse of pale skin, pulled taut over a flat stomach and lean frame. Dean’s mouth watered. He wanted to kiss every inch. He wanted to suck and bite and lick. But above all, he wanted to _please_.

Dean leaned in and licked a long strip up the underside of Castiel’s dick.

Castiel let out a strangled gasp. His hips trembled, so Dean moved his hands to grip them.

“I’ve got you,” Dean whispered and then licked just over the slit of Castiel’s cockhead, where a pearl of pre-come had emerged. He traced a lazy circle around the head before pushing forward and taking it into his mouth.

“D-Dean!” Castiel cried. His fingers clutched useless at Dean’s shoulders. A moment later, as Dean took him deeper into his mouth, Castiel’s fingers flew to Dean’s hair. He combed through at first, until Dean hummed. Then he gripped the strands in his fists and tugged – just a little, not enough to hurt, just enough to cause the right amount of pressure.

Dean had some practice at both ends of this – never anything serious, mostly pre-determined one night stands. He liked watching his partner’s faces as they came undone. He liked feeling them tremble under his hands. But never before, had he seen a show as good as this.

Castiel was beautiful. Skin pink with arousal, nipples peaked and tight, lips red and swollen from biting down on them, eyes clamped shut, brows curled in ecstasy.

As Dean moved his mouth along the shaft, he drifted one hand down Castiel’s hip to his inner thigh. Dean cupped his balls and Castiel moaned – _loud_. Dean hummed in satisfaction.

Castiel, so inexperienced, didn’t last long with all the stimulation. As soon as Dean trailed one hand around to Castiel’s backside, tracing down the crease of his ass to brush ever-so-slightly against Castiel’s rim, Castiel bucked, cried out, and came in Dean’s waiting mouth.

Dean swallowed and then pulled away, smiling. He lightly kissed Castiel’s limp dick. Castiel wobbled on his feet, so Dean hurried to stand and caught him, holding him close against his chest.

“Was that okay?” Dean asked. He cared his fingers through Castiel’s hair.

Castiel sighed against his chest. “It was perfect.”

“Yeah?”

Castiel leaned back enough to gaze into Dean’s eyes. “Yeah,” he said with a shy smile. He blinked a few times, quickly, and the daze to his eyes disappeared. He looked down at himself and then at the forgotten bag by the door. “I brought you clean clothes,” he said, before paling and stepping away. He looked back at Dean with worry in his features. “Jess.”

“She send you in here?”

Castiel nodded. He reached down and grabbed his pants. Clumsily, he tugged them upwards.

“Jesus.” Dean ran a hand down his face. “She could probably smell me in here and sent you to deal with it. I’m sure she bailed as soon as you walked away.”

At last, Castiel managed to get his briefs and jeans up all the way, but his hands shook so much, he now struggled with the zipper and clasp. Dean stepped forward and took Castiel’s hands before he could hurt himself.

“Hey,” Dean said. Castiel stared hard at their conjoined hands. Dean dipped his head until he reclaimed Castiel’s attention. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve never done anything like that before.”

“I gathered that,” Dean replied.

“I just…” Castiel swallowed. “Is that it?”

Dean’s brow lowered. He sucked in a breath. Five seconds ago, he said he liked it and now it was lacking? “What do you mean?”

“It was wonderful.” Castiel pressed his lips firmly together. “But what do we do now? Just get dressed and go about our day?”

Dean shrugged. “I guess?”

Castiel’s shoulders slumped. His scent dissipated slightly – a sign of sadness or disappointment. Dean stared for a moment, watched how Castiel kept staring at their hands, and then everything clicked together.

“You want to cuddle,” Dean said.

“I’m sorry. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not.” Dean led Castiel to the bed, then sat down on the edge.

“I want to be close to you.”

“We haven’t much time,” Dean said. Still holding Castiel’s hand, he moved over to make room for him on the bed. Castiel eagerly filled the space when there was enough. He cuddled close to Dean’s chest. Dean draped an arm around him and pulled him close.

“Just for a little while.” Castiel was warm in Dean’s arms. Dean couldn’t remember the last time he laid so close to someone. Usually, he liked his space, so he could stretch out or turn whenever he wanted. With Castiel though, Dean always wanted to be close.

He dipped his head to the curve of Castiel’s neck and breathed in his scent.

_Just for a little while_ seemed so inadequate. He wanted to stay like this forever.

Minutes passed in comfortable silence, before Castiel spoke softly, though voice still loud in the quiet of the room.

“I never thought I’d be with someone like this. I never even knew I _could_ be with someone like this.”

Dean pulled Castiel a little closer to him. “Me, either.” Dean kissed Castiel’s temple. “I don’t deserve you, Cas.”

“Dean,” Castiel started, but Dean shook his head before he could say more.

“Those hunters that killed my father,” Dean said. “I could have let them go. I could have deferred to my brother’s judgment. But I didn’t. Cas, I killed them.”

Castiel said nothing, but he didn’t pull away either. Dean knew he must be repulsive, but Castiel’s scent never soured with disgust of fear. The sweetness of contentment stayed.

Castiel took a deep breath and said, “I wasn’t supposed to talk to strangers when we went to town. But once, when I was three or four, a man gave me candy and asked about my mom. He followed us home. My grandfather barely got me out of the house before it burned down. My mother…” Castiel swallowed hard. Dean tightened his hold, pulling Castiel closer against him. “My grandfather salvaged a few of our things and we left. Her death… If I hadn’t…”

“It wasn’t your fault, Cas,” Dean whispered, rubbing his cheek across Castiel’s forehead. “You can’t blame yourself for that.”

“I know.” Castiel cleared his throat and spoke again. “There are just bad people in the world, Dean. People who will hunt and hurt and kill for no other purpose than blind hatred or jealousy. You are not one of those people.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. You are a good man.”

Dean didn’t agree, but hearing Castiel say the words – his heart warmed with love and hope. For one brief moment, his doubts and fears were pushed far away. But when that moment was done, they returned tenfold.

Dean knew when the time came, he’d have to let Castiel go. They weren’t mates. It would be unfair to tie Castiel to him when he was already bound to another.

But Dean had no idea how he was ever going to be able to.

 

* * *

 

While Dean and Castiel were packing to leave, Jess returned into the apartment clutching a bottle of air freshener. She slammed the door behind her, glanced between them, and said, “You two have big problems.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Not another lecture, Jess.”

“You’ll wish it was,” Jess snapped. She pressed the trigger on the air freshener and walked around the room, spraying everywhere. “Hunters are here.”

Castiel’s shoulders tensed. Dean placed a hand on one to ease them. “We were expecting that, remember?” he said, hoping to offer comfort.

Unfortunately, Jess wasn’t finished. “And I saw Sam.”

Dean’s fingers tightened involuntarily, gripping at Castiel’s flannel.

“What did you say?” Dean asked.

“He asked about you. What the hell was I supposed to say?”

“Shit.”

“Who is Sam?” Castiel asked. He placed his hand atop Dean’s on his shoulder, and the warmth of the touch eased Dean’s tight hold.

“The alpha of my pack. Well, my old pack,” Dean explained. He took a breath and huffed it out. “And my brother.”

“Your brother?”

“I was with him when we both saw the hunters,” Jess started as she moved across the room to spray more. “He went to speak with them. He hopes to draw some kind of truce.”

“Alone?” Dean snapped. Sam might be an alpha, but he was still Dean’s kid brother.

“Of course not. Benny’s with him.”

“He should stay out of this,” Dean growled, anger flaring now with his fear ebbed. Benny was a good, strong wolf. He’d watch out for Sam. “He’s not my alpha anymore.”

Jess rolled her eyes. “Like he’d be okay with hunters taking out his brother.”

“I disobeyed his command. Made others question his leadership,” Dean said. “Hell, they all thought I wanted to take over the pack.”

Jess stopped spraying and looked back at him. “You aren’t planning on taking over the pack, are you?”

“ _No_ ,” Dean said, firm. He didn’t want the responsibility or the pressure, and he hated the damned politics of it all – sucking up to each pack member just to assure they’ll stay and not tear his throat out when he’s not looking. No, thanks. Especially not if that meant he would have to challenge Sam. Dean didn’t always agree with Sam’s judgment, but for the most part, he was a kind and patient leader.

“Sam’s just looking out for you. Though he’s still pissed at you, by the way.” Jess shook her head. “He asked me to hide you here until he can get back to us. He really wants to talk to you.” She walked down the hallway toward the spare bedroom. She opened the door and then gagged dramatically. “Sheesh, couldn’t you two wait to consummate your relationship until you weren’t in life-threatening danger?”

Castiel blushed.

“Don’t listen to her.” Dean kissed his cheek. Castiel turned in time to catch his lips for a quick, chaste kiss.

“Are we in trouble?” Castiel asked.

“No, not us. Just me.”

Castiel’s eyes grew wide.

“My old pack won’t hurt you,” Dean said.

“But the hunters will. Since I’m your mate?”

Dean opened his mouth to deny it, to say that Castiel wasn’t his, but the words wouldn’t come out.

Instead he looked at Jess as she walked back into the room. “You have to get Cas to the pack lands. I’m not one of them anymore, but they wouldn’t deny him protection. He’s an innocent.”

Jess lifted a brow. “And what are you going to do, Dean?”

“I won’t let the hunters hurt Cas.” Deep inside, Dean’s heart whispered _protect_. “They won’t have a reason to if I give myself up.”

Behind him, Castiel huffed. Dean turned and found him glaring with his hands propped up on his hips.

“Do I get a say in this?” Castiel demanded.

Dean’s mouth snapped closed.

“I did not pull you in from the rain just to watch a bunch of gun-toting psychopaths haul you away,” Castiel said. “You want to protect me? Then don’t be so damned quick to walk out on me.”

“That’s not what I –” Dean started, but Castiel, obviously unfinished, cut him off.

“I want to protect you, too. But you have to let me, Dean. This is a partnership, remember?”

Except it wasn’t. Because they weren’t mates. But how was Dean ever supposed to tell him that?

“Right,” Dean said instead. “Sure.”

Jess pointed the end of her spray bottle at him. “You’re staying here, Dean Winchester,” she said. “And you are going to talk to your brother – just like you should have done when all this started!”

 

* * *

 

Dean paced back and forth in the small living room. It had only been an hour since Jess had stormed in with the news, but that seemed much too long. “Something’s happened. Sam’s in trouble.”

Jess rubbed her forehead. “Dean, sit down before you hurt yourself.”

“I can’t believe you told him we were here,” Dean said.

“Mates can’t lie to mates, Dean,” Jess said. Dean pointedly avoided looking at Castiel who sat beside her on the couch. Instead, he swiveled on his heel and started on another pass. Jess continued, “He knows we’re friends. He asked if I’d heard from you. I tried being dodgy, but he’s persistent. And never discount the power of those doe eyes.”

Dean knew the look she meant. Sam got away with just about everything growing up, all by flashing his wide, sad eyes. Maybe that’s why Dean ran from this to begin with. He knew he wouldn’t be able to say no if Sam asked him to stay.

Worse, if Sam told him to go.

With all the trouble Dean caused, Sam would have had every right to tell Dean to get lost. Even the thought of his brother casting him away made Dean want to vomit. He started for the bathroom.

“Dean?” Castiel stood and followed. The smell of worry poured off of him in thick waves.

Dean ignored him, rushing into the bathroom. Hunching over the sink, he turned on the cold water and splashed some in his face.

“ _I_ am the alpha here,” Sam had growled the last time Dean saw him, teeth flashing, crowding right into Dean’s face. “You will _listen_ to me.”

“Dean?” Castiel called from the doorway.

Dean hated how Castiel’s presence in the small room already brought him comfort. Castiel’s very nearness eased the tension out of Dean’s shoulders and helped him draw in deeper breaths.

It wasn’t fair. Those were qualities that mates brought to each other. But Castiel wasn’t his mate.

Castiel _lied_.

“Cas, just –” Dean growled but then stopped himself. He took a deep breath. “Just give me some space, okay?”

Castiel’s emotions clamped down so hard, Dean couldn’t smell anything at all.

“Apologies,” Castiel said, voice tight, resigned, and left the doorway. Dean immediately wanted him back. He shouldn’t have said that. He shouldn’t have pushed Castiel away.

_Shit_.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Castiel walked back into the living room. Muscles tense, he sat very still on the edge of the couch.

Jess looked at him and frowned. She opened her mouth but he shook his head before she could say anything. She bit her lip instead.

Castiel tried not to take Dean’s behavior personally. Dean and his brother obviously had several unresolved issues. Dean had every right to be upset. Him wanting to be alone was not a reflection on their relationship. It was not a rejection.

But it still felt like one.

In the corner of his eye, Castiel saw Jess stare at him. He avoided her gaze – until she stood. She walked around the couch toward the bathroom. Castiel turned on the couch, watching as she stormed right through the doorway and smacked Dean upside the head.

“What the hell, Jess?!” Dean gripped his head.

“Don’t be a dick, Dean,” Jess kicked him in the knee.

“ _Shit!_ Stop!”

“Don’t you dare do this! Not to him!” Jess bopped Dean on the arm next. The punches and kicks didn’t seem particularly hard, but Dean still shielded himself as much as possible, bunching his body in tight. “You do this with everyone! But he’s your fucking mate!”

“No, he _isn’t!_ ” Dean snapped, voice so loud it took on an inhuman snarl.

Jess stopped mid-swing. Her arm hung in the air. “…What?”

“He isn’t my mate,” Dean said, softer.

Castiel righted himself on the couch, turning slowly to again face the television and the white wall behind. He sat very still with his hands resting in fists on his knees. Throat suddenly dry, he swallowed hard. It burned the whole way down.

He wondered how long Dean knew. Was it before they touched each other in the bedroom and whispered soft words in the dark? Did Dean purposefully tease Castiel, make him believe he could find someone who cared – someone who _wanted_ him, someone he could want, too – just to take that all away again?

It didn’t matter, really, he guessed. What happened, happened. He could only move forward. He could only…

He bit back the tears. He wouldn’t cry here. He didn’t want Dean to see. Dean wasn’t to blame here. They just weren’t mates. That was no one’s fault.

“How could you –” Jess started. She sounded like she stood at the end of a very long tunnel.

“Cas.” Dean’s soft voice was much closer.

Castiel looked up as Dean came to his side of the couch and fell to his knees at Castiel’s side.

“ _Cas_ ,” he said again, desperately, as if he was trying to pass Castiel some sort of secret message that only the two of them could understand. But they had a communication barrier now. Castiel didn’t understand him at all.

Reaching out, Dean placed a hand on Castiel’s knee. Castiel twitched away and Dean immediately withdrew it. Castiel wanted Dean’s warmth – _longed_ for it – which was exactly why he couldn’t let himself have it. Dean wasn’t his. And that meant Dean still had a mate out there.

One day, Dean would be mated to someone else.

Castiel blinked and a treacherous tear fell down his cheek.

He wished he had never found his mother’s letter. He wished he had never left his grandfather’s cabin in the woods.

“I want to go home,” Castiel said.

He wouldn’t look at Dean again, but he still heard the strain in Dean’s voice as he said, “You can’t, Cas. Not yet. The hunters –”

“The hunters are after you, not me.” Castiel kept his tone emotionless. “You said I was in danger only because…” He took a shaky breath. “But you said yourself that I’m not…” He couldn’t finish the sentence either. “That…” He buried his face in his hands. “I want to go home.”

“Cas –”

“Come on, Cas,” Jess said over Dean. “Let’s go down to my truck and get some fresh air.”

Dean snapped his attention to her. “If anyone sees him –”

“ _Relax_.” Jess’s eyes narrowing as she gazed at Dean. “And _sit_. You need some privacy to deal with your Winchester bullshit anyway.”

“He can’t go back there yet –”

“I’m right here, Dean.” Castiel stood. “I’m tired of you speaking as if I am not right here.”

“Fine.” Dean swiveled to face Castiel. Castiel shifted a stern mask over his features, keeping his hurt locked deep away. Only the track of that single tear gave him away, but that seemed enough for Dean, who took one look at it and winced. “I get it. You want to be away from me. But… Cas. Those guys want me dead. And even if… even…” Dean closed his mouth, licked his lips, and then continued, “They can still use you against me. I still care about you.”

Castiel pushed the words away from his heart. He wouldn’t let Dean Winchester affect him again. “The only hunter who knew me died back at my grandfather’s cabin. It made sense to travel together when we thought we might be mates, but now…” Castiel shrugged. He had never felt so defeated. Looking at Jess, he said, “I want to go.”

“I’ll watch out for him. You know I will,” Jess told Dean, words clipped. “You just worry about patching things up with Sam.”

Dean’s shoulders hunched. His gaze dropped to the floor. He looked so pathetic that Castiel wanted to hug him, which is exactly why Castiel walked around him and to the door.

 

* * *

 

The apartment was on the ground floor, with a small grass patch beyond the front door and then the parking lot. Jess went out first, walking all the way to the truck before motioning for Castiel to follow her. Castiel opened the door to the passenger side and slipped inside as Jess entered the driver’s side.

“You’re going to have to sit on the floor,” Jess said. “Just to be safe. At least until we get out of town.”

Castiel nodded and slipped down, squishing himself down beside the seat.

Jess started the engine and pulled out of the parking spot. Castiel didn’t breathe easy again until they hit the highway and Jess rolled the windows down. Only with the wind of fresh air and pollen rushing in was Castiel able to ignore that his clothes all smelled like Dean.

A few miles down the highway, Jess took an exit and then drove, from what Castiel could tell from the overwhelming scent of pine, straight through the forest. After going down what felt like a dirt road, Jess finally pulled the truck over and cut the engine.

“Shall we?” she asked and hopped out. When Castiel stayed put, she came back to the window and said, “This is all Sam’s territory. It’s safe. The hunters don’t dare turn up on pack grounds.” Then she disappeared again.

Castiel reached into the collar of his shirt and wrapped a hand around the pendant of his mother’s necklace. She was brave. He could be brave, too.

He pushed open the door and crawled out onto grass.

Jess stood a few feet in front of the truck, waving at him. Beyond her was a massive lake with a little pier on their side. Jess walked down the wooden planks and plopped herself at the end of it.

Castiel waited a minute, checking their surroundings – he saw nothing but dense brush and forest. Slowly, gripping his mother’s necklace tight, he went to the lake and joined Jess at the pier. He sat down beside her.

“This is my favorite spot in all of Sam’s territory.” Jess pointed to the opposite side of the lake. “At sunset, the sun dips just beyond those trees right there. The whole sky turns purple and orange. It’s beautiful.” Jess dropped her hand. “I always come here when I need to be alone. That’s been pretty often, lately.

“The pack doesn’t trust me. Sam and I found each other over a year ago – Dean introduced us, actually.”

Castiel’s heart skipped at the mention of Dean. Jess didn’t seem to notice.

“But the pack rejected an immediate union. He’s the alpha. I’m an outsider. They want me to prove myself, but they never say how. I’ve gone to every single one of their goddamn meetings and events for the past year, and they still won’t let me bond with my mate.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said, both because it was terrible and because he didn’t know what else to say.

Jess smiled but shook her head. “I’m not telling you all this to get your sympathy. I just want you to understand… Sometimes being mated _sucks_.”

“You are attempting to make me feel better about not being Dean’s mate,” Castiel said, unsure.

She rolled her eyes. “Oh my _God_ , you are as oblivious as he is. I think you two might just be perfect for each other. Well, I mean, _shit_ , of course you are. You _are_ mates.”

“No.” Castiel frowned, confused. “Dean said we’re not.”

“Dean says a lot of things he doesn’t mean.”

_No_. Castiel fought against hope. Dean had said they weren’t mates. “If we were mates, he couldn’t lie to me.”

“He didn’t say it to you. He said it to _me_.”

That was true, but –

“Dean doesn’t believe in nice things for himself.” Jess looked out over the water. “He never has. He’s stubborn and thick-headed, and would do anything he thought would benefit someone he cared about, even to the detriment of himself.”

“I don’t understand.”

Jess slid her gaze to Castiel’s and held it there. “Dean either doesn’t know it yet, or he thinks you’re better off without him. But you’re mates, Cas. Dean is your mate.”

“But, Dean –”

“— is a selfless idiot who would rather send you away than keep you for himself and risk you falling into his bullshit. And worse, he probably doesn’t even realize that’s what he’s doing.”

“He’s… protecting me,” Castiel said slowly. He didn’t know if he believed the rest just yet, but he could believe this. Dean had been trying to protect him since that hunter first showed up at the cabin.

“I wouldn’t give you false hope. If it wasn’t there, I would tell you so. But I know a thing or two about Winchester’s in love. Dean and Sam aren’t as different as they like to think. Bleeding hearts, both of them.”

Castiel didn’t doubt her, but he wanted to hear the words from Dean’s own mouth. Only then would he let himself believe one word of this. If they were mates, then Dean would never say, “You aren’t mine,” to Castiel’s face. He wouldn’t be able to.

“I want to see Dean. We should go back.”

“I understand the eagerness,” Jess said, frowning now. “But we’re safe here. We should just wait this whole thing out. The boys will be okay, don’t worry.”

“You don’t seem like the type of person to usually just sit these things out.”

“You guessed right.” She lifted a shoulder. “But you are important to Dean, and Dean, whether the pack accepts me with Sam or not, is family. He’s my mate’s brother. That makes you family, too. And I’m going to protect you, even if that means… sitting this one… out.” Her words slowed as she sniffed the air.

Castiel looked around them, but didn’t see anything in the trees.

Jess hopped to her feet. “Come on.”

Castiel stumbled to his feet and hurried to follow her as she walked quickly toward the car.

Only a few feet away from it, a gun fired. A bullet ripped into the side of the truck.

A hunter peeled away from the shadow of the trees. And then another. And another. Five in all stood in an arch around Jess and Castiel, guns in their hands. Most carried disinterested stares, except one who stepped forward, smirking.

“Hello, pups.”


	6. Chapter 6

Dean pushed his fingers through his hair. The strands tugged at his scalp. That new pain did nothing to lessen the throbbing ache deep in his chest that had started the second Castiel walked out that door.

“We’re not mates, _damn it_ ,” he growled at himself, and willed himself to stop feeling like his heart had just been ripped from his ribcage and jumped up and down on. “We’re _not_ ,” he said again, even as every nerve and muscle screamed otherwise.

His whole body itched to find Castiel, to keep safe – to _protect_.

“But he lied to me,” he whispered, though the words didn’t carry as much weight anymore. How had he lied? By saying there was a town in that direction? Of course there was a town in that direction. There’s a goddamn town in every direction!

_Shit_. Realization struck like a lightning bolt.

He was an idiot.

He had pushed Castiel away.

But Castiel was _his_.

They were _mates_.

Dean raced for the door. He’d been pacing for a while. Castiel and Jess were probably long gone. But Dean could track them. He wouldn’t stop until he had his mate in his arms and could explain. He had to tell Castiel how much of a fool he’d been, how much he wanted this – _them_ – to work.

He threw open the door – and stopped.

Sam stood on the other side, arm up, fist closed, poised to knock. He glanced at Dean with surprise and a softness to his features. Heavy bags hung under his eyes and his hair was disheveled. When was the last time he had slept?

“Dean,” Sam said, and he started to smile.

For a moment, it was like nothing had changed, and they were still best friends and brothers with no conflicts between them beyond the superficial ones. Sam still needed a haircut.

“Hey, Sammy.” Dean looked down at his feet. “Sorry about… I know exiles aren’t supposed to be so near the pack lands… I wouldn’t have come if… My mate was in trouble, and Jess was the only one I could think who might –”

Sam laid a hand on Dean’s shoulder. When Dean looked up into his brother’s eyes, he saw nothing but the acceptance and brotherly love he was so used to seeing there. The only time he hadn’t seen it was when Sam snapped at him after their father died. Dean’s stomach clenched at the memory, but Sam squeezed Dean’s shoulder and kept him in the present.

“You were never exiled, Dean.”

Dean shook his head. “I disobeyed you. I became a threat to the pack –”

“Yeah, you’re a thick-headed asshole sometimes, but you’re also my brother. We’re not going to always agree, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to send you away,” Sam told him, voice calm – understanding.

“Come on, Sammy. This wasn’t just a simple misunderstanding. I… Those hunters…”

“They were bad men. They trespassed onto our lands, kidnapped and murdered our father, and desecrated his body.”

“ _You_ wanted to let them live,” Dean said, disgust building – not for Sam, but for those vile hunters. John Winchester was no saint, but he deserved better than being viciously murdered and dumped like he never meant anything to anyone.

“There are ways of doing things. Many of which I _hate_ , but nothing can be done about that. Justice through trial and conviction –”

“You wanted to return them to the other hunters. They would have let them off, Sam. That isn’t justice!”

“That’s not necessarily true…”

Sam leaned to one side, revealing Benny and a hunter standing behind him. Dean’s shoulders tensed. He fought the urge to change into wolf form as a growl built up in his throat.

Sam turned so that Dean could see Benny and the hunter fully. Benny had his arms crossed, not restraining the hunter in anyway. The hunter, a man in his fifties, had a scraggily beard and disheveled dark brown hair, touched with gray. He also had a gun in the holster on his hip.

“Dean, this is Chuck,” Sam said. “He’s the leader of the hunters around here.”

Dean took a threatening step forward. Yes, Castiel wasn’t still in the house, but his things were here, and his scent. This hunter would not be privy to either.

The hunter took a small step backwards and to the side, crowding in beside Benny. Benny rolled his eyes, gripped the hunter by the collar, and shoved him forward.

“Uh… h-hello,” Chuck said, cowering. He held out a hand. Dean stared at it until he lowered it again. “Uh.”

“Tell him about the rebels, Chuck,” Sam said.

“Oh, right.” Chuck cleared his throat. “Rebellious hunters killed your father, I’m sorry.”

Dean growl caught. “What?”

“They aren’t working with us. Look, we never wanted any trouble with your pack. We like packs. They usually maintain order. We only hunt supernatural creatures that are a danger to humans. Packs often help their human neighbors… No hunter of mine has trespassed uninvited on pack lands for as long as I’ve been in charge.”

“Who the hell are the rebels?” Dean asked, gruff.

Chuck sighed. “There was a… break in our group over twenty years ago. We thought he was just quitting. Maybe he bought a farm somewhere or something. Instead, he was training his own group of hunters. Not hunters though – _slayers_. They call themselves _demons_. They’ve been slaughtering wolves all across the country.”

“To what end?” Dean asked. This sounded pretty far-fetched.

“They’re looking for someone.” Chuck’s eyes darted away from Dean’s, focusing on the doorframe. “Someone who… I thought was dead.”

“Yeah? Who’s that?”

“His name is Castiel. He’s my son.”

 

* * *

 

“Stay behind me, Cas,” Jess whispered over her shoulder. To the hunters, she announced loudly, “You are trespassing on Sam Winchester’s pack lands. We shall ignore your threats if you turn your backs to us now and walk away. Else you risk war with a strong and proud pack.”

“Oh, puppy,” the leader said, running a hand through his blonde hair. “That threat won’t work with us. We know you and your friend here aren’t part of Winchester’s pack.”

Jess stuck her chin up high. “We are under their protection.”

“You like to think that, don’t you? I bet it helps you sleep at night. I know who you are, Jessica Moore. I know you are Sam Winchester’s mate, rejected by all, including him.”

Jess growled. “Shut up.”

“Am I wrong? You haven’t even had the mating ceremony, so far as I’ve heard. You don’t even carry his bite mark on your neck. Nor he, yours.”

When Jess winced, Castiel stepped forward, to her side. “What do you want?”

The leader kept his eyes a moment longer on Jess before finally sliding his gaze to Castiel. “And you must be Castiel. The little boy who wandered out of the woods.”

“I’m not a little boy,” Castiel said. “And you haven’t answered my question.”

“No, I suppose I haven’t.” The leader took a step, and the others followed, closing in the semi-circle around Castiel and Jess. “We’ve been looking for you for a long time, Castiel. They’ve hidden you well. But now, we’ve found you. All thanks to Dean Winchester and a few of my dead followers. I told Alistair not to go chasing after him into the woods. But Dean killed some of his kin. Funny, that. All their deaths finally brought me you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You have no idea who you are, do you? Or who your parents were?” the leader said. When Castiel just stared, the leader continued, “You are an abomination, Castiel – the offspring of our jackass ex-leader and an alpha wolf _bitch_.”

“You’re so angry with your old leader for turning into a wolf that you’d hunt down his son for twenty years?” Jess asked, incredulous.

“You don’t get it,” the leader said. “Our hunter is as he always has been, human.”

Jess gasped.

Castiel glanced at her. “I don’t understand.”

“Humans are often mates, but those kinds of pairs aren’t fertile. There’s something wrong with the biology. It’s not compatible. The human mates often make the decision to be turned into wolves, and then they have children.”

Castiel vaguely remembered Dean saying something like that, but it was a distant memory now. Something he couldn’t quite hold onto here, now, with this new accusation weighing him down. Could he be… Was it possible?

Jess looked at Castiel. “He’s either lying about this or… you’re some kind of miracle.”

The leader clapped his hands. “A miracle? Hah! He’s a freak. A fluke. The kind of thing we would have stomped out the minute it had been born if it hadn’t been a son to Chuck, that imbecile. He never could see the bigger picture: the preservation of our species.”

“You’re insane!” Jess shouted.

Castiel remembered his mother’s kind blue eyes, so like his, and his grandfather’s warm laugh. Had they been wolves?

Was _he_?

“So you understand why we can’t let you live, Castiel,” the leader said. “You, Jessica Moore, can see how far you can run, if you’d like. No promises, though. My boys love their target practice.”

“Bite me,” Jess snapped and stepped firmly in front of Castiel.

Castiel shoved her back. “Let her go. It’s me you want.”

The leader shrugged. “Why settle for one when you can have the set?” He raised his hand and extended a finger. The other hunters lifted their guns.

“Cas,” Jess started. They backed up further, retreating down the pier.

The hunters had them boxed in against the lake; there was nowhere for them to run.

The leader said, “Kill them.”

Jess turned. She shoved Castiel off his feet, and off the wooden floorboards. Castiel reached out and grabbed her arms.

The guns went off.

Together, Jess and Castiel fell into the lake.

 


	7. Chapter 7

In full wolf form, Dean and Sam ran neck and neck toward the pack lands, with Benny close behind. Further back, in a Jeep with the top off, rode Chuck and a few of his fellow hunters. Dean didn’t trust them yet, but he wasn’t going to argue when he learned Castiel was in danger.

They were almost to the lake. Sam had assured him that was where Jess would go to clear her head. If Castiel needed to be alone, that was where she would take him. It was deep in pack lands. It was supposed to be safe for them.

The stench of hunter hung thick in the air. The demons must have traversed here when they trespassed deeper into pack lands.

Dean and Sam broke through the tree line first, not slowing when the lake came into view. Jess’s truck had a bullet hole on the side. Five demons stood at the edge of the water. Jess and Castiel were nowhere to be seen, but Dean could smell them.

Or rather, he could smell their fear. And _blood_.

Dean snarled, barreling down on the demon in the center. He barely turned around when Dean lunged for his throat.

_Protect_.

 

* * *

 

Castiel held Jess against his chest, making sure to keep her face above the water as he hid them beneath the pier. She was unconscious but breathing. Her blood clouded the water around them; Castiel couldn’t tell where she had been shot.

“Looks like the pups fancy a game of hide and seek,” the leader said, laughing.

The growl of a wolf stopped their laughter. A loud thud sounded above on the pier. Castiel cowered slightly, half expecting the boards to crack and a body to push straight through.

Gunshots fired. A wolf yelped, then growled. A man’s sharp cry of pain was immediately silenced.

An eerie silence fell around him. For a few long seconds, Castiel could only hear the water gently lapping at the timber pillars of the pier.

But, then a voice called out, “Cas?”

“D-Dean!” Castiel cried, voice shaky. Pulling Jess, he swam out from under the pier and toward the shore. Dean, naked, face covered in blood, met him halfway. He took one look at the blood in the water and shouted, “Sam!”

Dean’s brother was a mountain of a man, but with a gentle face. His eyes fell on Jess and widened. He ran toward Castiel and snatched her from his arms.

“What happened?” he demanded.

“She’s been shot,” Castiel explained, he trudged through the water toward the shore. Dean grabbed his elbow to help him. “I don’t know where. She shoved me out of the way. She saved my life.”

Dean’s grip tightened hard before he seemed to come to himself and eased up.

“It’s her shoulder. Looks like silver,” Sam said. “I have to get her to the hospital. Where the hell is Chuck?!”

Five bodies laid dead across the shore. Castiel adverted his gaze toward Jess’s truck, not wanting to see the gore too closely. He knew he’d find fang marks and gorges at their necks.

Sam carried Jess toward her truck. A gray wolf stayed near him. Castiel didn’t recognize him, but he must have been one of Sam’s pack members.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Dean said, urging Castiel further from the shore and the bodies. It didn’t matter how far they went though, Castiel could smell them. Their blood was smeared all over Dean.

Sam ripped open the door to the truck when a Jeep came tearing down the dirt road. A few hunters jumped out.

“Sorry. The trees got too thick, we had to go around,” one of the hunters said.

A growl erupted from the back of Castiel’s throat.

No more hunters. No more death. Jess was wounded. Sam and Dean were exposed.

Dean. _My mate._

“Cas?” Dean said, surprise in his voice. “Cas, calm down! It’s okay!”

Castiel opened his mouth to tell Dean to get back, to say he will protect him from this threat, but all that came out were incomprehensible garbles and – _barks?_

Somehow, Castiel had hunched down onto all fours. He looked down at his hands, but saw a pair of black paws instead.

“Cas.” Dean walked in front of him, arms up, palms out defensively. “It’s okay.”

_Get out of the way, Dean_. Castiel wanted to shout, but all that came out was a loud bark and a growl.

“These ones are on our side. They’re here to help. They aren’t going to hurt us.”

Castiel just growled louder, so that the hunters could hear even with Dean in the way. He wouldn’t let them hurt Dean. If they even tried, he would kill them.

“Cas, trust me, okay? I couldn’t lie to you even if I wanted to.”

_Because we’re mates_. But they weren’t. Not really. Despite what Jess’s arguments, Dean had already said they weren’t. He hadn’t taken it back yet. Maybe he meant to, but not…

The hunters stood still. Behind them, Sam watched, half in the truck, half out. The other wolf was at his side.

All of them stared at Castiel.

He was the outsider here. The wild card. The one that never belonged.

In that moment, he would have given anything to be back at his grandfather’s cabin, safe inside its walls.

He looked at Dean but could only hear the memory of his words, “He isn’t my mate.”

“Cas,” Dean said now. “It’s okay. We can talk about this. Everything is fine.”

It wasn’t fine. Nothing was fine.

So Castiel turned and ran. He followed the beach to the tree line and then pushed his wolf body hard through the forest.

“Cas!” Dean called after him, but Castiel wouldn’t slow down.

He wanted away from all this. He wanted to go _home_.

Castiel ran as fast as he could, but he was awkward on his feet. He’d never run with four legs before.

It didn’t take him long to realize Dean, shifted again into wolf form, was following him. He’d washed the blood away from himself though. Now he only smelled liked Dean.

At any point, Dean could have easily caught up with him, but he never did. He stayed back a ways, always within sight but never closing the distance.

Anger and fear and worry and misery heightened, Castiel stopped, turned to face Dean, and shouted, “Why are you following me?” His own voice, now human, startled him. He looked down at himself. He had shifted into human again.

Dean shifted too, but still stood a few yards away. The distance only made Castiel angrier. He wanted Dean closer. He wanted Dean to want to be closer.

“Why, Dean?” Castiel demanded, barely remembering what he was asking. _Why are you following me? Why aren’t you stopping me? Why did you say I’m not your –_

Dean huffed out a frustrated breath, then spoke quickly, “Because you’re my mate. Because you’ve never been a wolf before and I’ve got to make sure you are okay. Because these crazy asshole _demons_ are apparently chasing you, and I can’t bear the thought of them so much as setting eyes on you again.”

Castiel swallowed hard, all thoughts caught up on the word _mate_. _My mate_.

“You told Jess we weren’t…” Castiel couldn’t even say it.

Dean’s gaze dropped to the forest floor. “I’m an idiot, that’s why.”

“Dean.” Castiel didn’t like him talking about himself like that.

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought you’d lied to me, okay? When you said you’d lead me to town and we just went further into the forest.”

“You said to take you to a town,” Castiel said. “You never said which one. I wanted to protect you from the hunters. If they had been anywhere, it would have been in one of those closer towns. Dean –”

“Yeah, I get it. _Now_.” Dean sighed. “I didn’t before. I thought… _Shit_ , Cas. I was all tore up. I wanted you to be mine, but I didn’t know… if you’d lied to me, I didn’t know how we could have been mates. But you hadn’t lied.” He lifted his gaze to Castiel’s, green eyes wide and vulnerable, much like on the first night they had met – like Castiel again held his life in his hands. “I won’t pressure you. If you want to leave. If you need time. Even if you don’t want me. It’s… I’ll deal with it. I won’t push you. Just… _please_. Stay in the pack lands for a while, just until we track down the rest of these demons. I can’t… I need to know you’re safe. Someday, I’ll make sure you get back to your cabin, Cas, I promise, but it’s not safe yet.”

“Dean.”

“ _Please_ , Cas,” Dean said. He took a few steps closer. “I can’t lose you. If you walk away from me… I’ll… it will hurt, but I’ll manage. But if they find you and… _hurt_ you… Cas…” His voice broke. He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hands.

In a breath, all hostility flushed right out of Castiel’s system. He looked at Dean holding back tears and his heart ached, even as it soared.

They were mates.

Dean was his.

Castiel took a step toward Dean but hesitated. This was so much bigger than anything he had ever felt. He was afraid of how strongly he wanted to embrace and comfort Dean – how much he wanted to love him.

But then his mother’s words echoed in his head.

_My dearest son, you mustn’t be afraid to live or you never will._

And Castiel took off running. He collided into Dean’s chest, toppling them over onto the forest floor. He held Dean close and cried into his chest. Dean encircled his arms around Castiel’s shoulders and kept him there.

Dean’s arms felt more like home than Castiel’s grandfather’s cabin ever had.

Castiel never wanted to leave them.

As Dean pulled him tighter and whispered, “Mine,” into his hair, he realized he’d never have to.

“Home,” Castiel replied.

“Home,” Dean agreed.


	8. EPILOGUE

Jess was released from the hospital after only a few days. Once they removed the silver bullet from her flesh, she healed quickly and fully. She disappeared with Sam for three days, and then showed up at a pack meeting by his side. Both wore fresh mating marks on the sides of their necks. Any of the pack that so much as snickered, received a death glare from Sam, Jess, and Dean. Castiel, too, if he was there.

Dean wasn’t reinstated into the pack formally because as Sam insisted, “You never left.” Instead, he just returned and went about his business as usual. He heard a few consolations about his father, but no snide remarks or threats. Benny patted him on the shoulder and said, “Welcome home, brother.” He wasn’t the only one.

Castiel stayed on pack lands in his own little house in their little town. Dean visited often, and made sure others visited, too. Castiel had lived a solitary life out in the woods. Dean wanted to make sure he never felt alone again.

Even Chuck visited Castiel a few times. Castiel insisted Dean always be present for those meetings, not really trusting his hunter father. The first few meetings started uneasy. Things had been improving though. “Eventually,” Castiel told Dean, “we might even be friends.”

Dean loved Castiel deeply and truly, but he hesitated to make his mark on Castiel’s neck, or ask for Castiel’s in return. He’d promised to never pressure Castiel. He intended to keep that promise, even if meant never trading marks.

One day, after the pack and Chuck’s hunters had tracked down and disposed of the stray demons, Castiel asked Dean if he would take him back to his grandfather’s cabin so that he could collect the rest of his things.

“I’m coming back,” Castiel said to Dean, so that all the pack would know he wasn’t lying. “But I don’t want to leave all of my old life behind.”

Jess lent them her truck and Dean drove them to that tiny cabin in the woods.

“It’s still here,” Castiel said, smiling. He hopped out of the truck and hurried up to the front door. Dean quickly followed. Castiel looked around his living room, before glancing over his shoulder to Dean. There was something in his eyes that Dean couldn’t quite discern, but it set his skin ablaze.

Castiel broke their gaze and walked, with purpose, into his bedroom.

After closing and locking the front door behind him, Dean followed.

Castiel already had his sweatshirt off, miles and miles of pale skin exposed.

“I’ve been waiting to get you alone,” Castiel said without looking at him. He folded his sweatshirt and placed it atop his dresser. “Every time you came over to my house, it seemed you were in the company of a friend.”

Dean swallowed hard. “I wanted you to have friends.”

“I have friends,” Castiel said. Turning to face Dean, he reached down and unfastened the button of his jeans. “Now, I want my _mate_.”

Dean stopped breathing.

Holding his gaze, Castiel said, “I want your mark, Dean. And I want to give you mine.”

“Okay,” was all Dean could manage as Castiel pulled down the zipper.

“Is that something you want?” Castiel asked.

Dean nodded. “I’ve wanted that for a long time.”

“Then, come here,” Castiel said, holding up a hand.

Still nodding, Dean stepped forward. He barely got within arms’ length when Castiel hopped onto him and pushed them both down onto the bed.

“Holy _shit_ , Cas,” Dean said because this was the hottest thing that’d ever happened to him in the history of ever. This close to Castiel, Dean was overwhelmed by the thick aroma of lust and love and passion. He was dizzy with it. “You smell so _good_.”

“I’ve done some research, Dean,” Castiel said and pulled a packet of lube from his jeans pocket.

“ _Cas_ ,” Dean growled and flipped them so that he was atop of Castiel. He leaned in for a devouring kiss. Castiel pawed his fingers through Dean’s hair, keeping him close. Castiel’s tongue pushed Dean’s back into his own mouth and Dean whimpered because – _oh my God_ – Castiel gave as good as he got.

When they broke for air, Dean tried speaking. “How do you… uh… do you want to?”

Castiel looked up at him. “I want you inside of me.”

Over the course of the night, Dean learned exactly _why_ Castiel wanted to be away from friends and family before they fucked. He was _loud_. And something about his unbridled enthusiasm made Dean let go, too. They would have kept the whole town awake if they had stayed home.

The next morning, Dean woke up tired and sore, but, with a fresh mating mark on his neck and Castiel in his arms, he had never been so happy.

“I love you,” Castiel said before Dean ever opened his eyes.

Dean smiled. “I love you, too, Cas.”


End file.
